


Killing a Werewolf

by Ghost_Blade



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (Kinda), Bilingual, English, English and Spanish!, Español | Spanish, F/F, Half-Vampires, Multi, My First Fanfic, Nowhere specific in the KE series, Spain, Top Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Villanelle, Villanelle is a child, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-06-02 20:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Blade/pseuds/Ghost_Blade
Summary: Villanelle is handed a postcard with her next target, like always. Except this time, Konstantin also sends her off with a warning: be careful, and bring silver. The contract doesn’t go exactly as planned, and suddenly the game has changed. Villanelle’s target, Azuleja, becomes a high-priority witness and the key to success in Eve Polastri’s hunt for the assassin. However, alliances and goals shift as surprising revelations come to light and insane relationships are formed. How will it all end?OrVillanelle is sent to kill a werewolf, unbeknownst to her. It goes sideways... Eve and Villanelle race to the target; the latter wants to protect her, and the former wants to complete her job. But there is more going on here than just a simple hit ordered by the Twelve...





	1. Mamá

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy feat. a new girl with pink hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 1!
> 
> TW: abuse and death mentioned
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: this fic is in English and Spanish (I’m learning the latter and it’s a fun way to practice)
> 
> Azuleja / Azu = Bluejay / Jay
> 
> **Translations at the end notes!!
> 
> (More notes at the end... bear with me people)

Azuleja rolls awake at 6am, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light of her bedroom. She sits up slowly, letting her eyelids droop closed as she breathes in all the scents of León around her. She always, always has the windows fully open, which lets in the scents and sounds of the Spanish wilderness around. Even though the familiar surroundings comfort her, she recognizes the signs her body gives her. 

“ _Hoy es uno de esos días_ ” _,_ she sighs. 

The anxiety will hit her today, the aching of her scars tells her. She keeps taking in deep breaths, the plethora of smells wafting in through the windows giving her something to focus on. “ _Pon tu atención en otras cosas, como… cuántas sillas hay en el cuarto o algo así_ .” Her own words drift through Azuleja’s mind, and she starts to identify the scents she can recognize. _Unos conejos, demasiadas personas como siempre, el olor de comida rancio…_ Still, the anxiety creeps in, a black creature that burns her stomach, squeezes her chest, and forces tears to her eyes. She lives as far away from _la manada_ as she can manage, almost 70 miles and it still seems as though the toxic bonds are as oppressive as ever. _Tengo que concentrarme en algo diferente, esto no está funcionando,_ she thinks. But to combat the slimy, black creature that is Anxiety, her body starts to slip into the abyss of submissiveness, which is especially easy with the current strength of the pack bonds. 

“ _¡No, no, no!_ ” she growls. As her wolf rises within her, Azu feels more stable, though no less submissive. Her wolf is a creature of instinct and black and white values, whereas the human side of her is more emotional and anxiety-ridden. When she takes the reins, Azuleja is able to let the human side of her slip away and relax. She lets the smooth, buttery warmth of her other half comfort her and help guide her through the rest of the morning. By 7:30 Azuleja was out the door, briefcase in hand. The only problem was, the wolf was still in the driver’s seat, since the human was pushed far down throughout the morning as she continually hindered the productivity of getting ready. But now the human side of Azu had to push her way back up, because it was definitely not a good idea to have a wild animal counsel mentally-ill teenagers. She pushes up again and again, starting to gain more of _la luz_ where she could control the body. The wolf that shared the body with her was pushing back, however; an unusual occurrence.

“ _¿Qué te pasa, loba?_ ” the human side asks with concern, and a bite of irritation.

“ _Todavía no estás suficiente bien para controlarnos, humana. Y_ tu _ya lo sabes también._ ” the wolf counters, a hint of growl to her voice. So the strength of the pack bonds weren't only affecting the human side after all… 

“ _Sí, tienes razón, pero necesito tener control para hacer mi trabajo. ¿Y eso_ tu _ya lo sabes, no?”_

Suddenly the wolf stops resisting the efforts of the human to take over, and the tension snaps like a rubber band and fades just as the icy-blue eyes of the wolf do. Arguments between the pair never last long, and struggles for power are even rarer. That is one of the benefits of being an omega, one of the few that there are. Azu could feel that the wolf knew she was right, and even though she has retreated and relinquished _la luz_ , the smooth, melted-butter feeling of her support is still present. She continues her commute to work, hopping on a bus that would take her to the counseling center. Many days, Azuleja chose to run to work, either as a human or wolf, and today she longed for the feel of the earth beneath her paws and the wind in her fur. As she neared work, however, she knew she could let loose in other ways. Her job as a mental health counselor for teenagers helped immensely with her own mental state. While counseling the kids, she is able to use her own trauma for the benefit of others, and sometimes the children unknowingly help Azuleja herself through rough patches. It was a great symbiotic relationship with mutual benefits for both sides, something that had been lacking from Azu’s other relationships. She arrives at the counseling center, and the secretary waves her down before she can enter her office. 

“ _Oye, venga Mamá,”_ she calls, and Azu plods over curiously. 

“ _Buenos días, Lucía. ¿El primero empezará a las nueve, no?”_ Azu responds, smile on her face. The secretary, Lucía, shakes her head at her colleague's enthusiasm, but gives a small smile back and nods, gesturing over to Azuleja’s office. Azu waggles her eyebrows in return, and heads over to her “office.” Her job always had new challenges, yes, but also the arrival of new friends and people who Azu could help. It is no wonder her colleagues (and some of her kids) call her Mamá. As for her office, it was really where she held her sessions, and was more of a large meeting room. She stops before opening the door, trying to scent if anyone new had arrived recently. _El olor más nuevo aquí solo es un ratoncito_ , she realizes. New kids showed up unexpectedly, but today she’d get some reprieve for a while. The long arms of the clock tell her it’s only 8:30; her first group starts in half an hour. Azu spends the next 30 minutes immersed in reading files and planning activities, and the first knock on the door surprises her. She walks over to the door, holding it open as the teens start to arrive and sit down. She greets each of them brightly, though most respond with a grumble. _No puedo culparlos, para humanos es demasiado temprano para hablar de sus problemas._ Finally most of the seats inside are filled, and Azu leaves the door propped open for the inevitable stragglers. They all sit in a large circle composed of a ragtag group of old couches, chairs, and a couple stools. She starts the group as she always does: having the kids introduce themselves, say how they’re feeling, and why they are here. 

Azu starts, “ _Hola, me llamo Azuleja. ¿Como estoy hoy? Pues… tengo un poco estrés pero todavía me siento feliz. Y, por el final, estoy aquí porque trabajo aquí, por supuesto. Bueno… ¿Eduardo, puedes empezar?”_

Each teenager follows, with Azuleja correcting them here and there that _“cansado no es un sensación”_ and that they “ _sean honestos.”_ They practice mindful meditation, rehash their daily mood charts, and talk about any problems that have come up since the last group session. As one of her quieter kids, Eduardo, is describing his mother’s drug addiction along with his own, someone knocks on the door. Azuleja, not wanting to interrupt the flow, motions for him to continue and tells the others to be supportive. She opens the door and steps out, finding herself face to face with what seemed to be a newcomer. 

“ _Hola, soy Azuleja. ¿Estás aquí para el grupo a las nueve?”_ Azu whispers gently, glancing back through the window on the door behind her to check on Eduardo and the others. The girl is slim, an older teenager, and has long, light pink dyed hair, high cheekbones, and delicate features. She offers a shy, innocent smile and replies with the same whispering tone,

“ _Ah, sí, estoy aquí para el grupo pero… no quier- no quiero interrumpiros, puedo regresar luego o algo…”_

 _“No no, pasa y entra al grupo, no vas a interrumpir nada. ¿Cómo te llamas, cariño?”_ Azu speaks gently, as one might do to a frightened dog. She also motions for the girl to enter into the room, starting to open the door to let her pass. Before she passes by and into the room, she whispers her name, still shy and hesitant. 

“ _Emilia… me llamo Emilia,”_ and adds in a “ _mucho gusto”_ almost as an afterthought. The group continues on as normal, with the exception that Emilia introduces herself and why she’s there. She tells the group that her father, an alcoholic, killed her mother when she was little and that he is now in prison. Now, Emilia lives with her uncle, but struggles with many issues. Azu makes note that she’ll need to have a 1-on-1 evaluation with the girl to diagnose any disorders she may have and to outline a treatment plan. Emilia talks very little in the group, and even though her exterior is shy, she seems to be almost bored. Azu notices Emilia looking at her often, and thinks that maybe she wants to speak after the session when there won’t be as many people around. 

The therapy session wraps up at 11, and the teenagers are eager to leave. Azuleja plans to lag behind before she leaves for her lunch break to talk to Emilia, but can’t seem to find her. She picks up her scent, outside the room and in the hallway, but remembers that it could be from when she entered the building. As she is trying to track her, the strangeness of her scent starts to stick with the wolf in Azuleja. Something about her scent was _off_ but Azuleja couldn’t put a finger on it; she’d never smelled anything remotely similar before. 

Perplexed and lost as to where the girl went, the counselor decides to just head out to lunch. The strange quality of the smell could just be that her emotions are very mixed and create a strange combination. Or maybe she lives somewhere unfamiliar to Azu, where she wouldn’t recognize the scent of it. Or… Her thoughts continue on for awhile, with her wolf offering opinions also. By the end of her lunch break, at noon, she is no closer to an answer. If anything, Azu is more confused and starting to get irritated that she can’t place the scent. On top of the strange smell of Emilia, the sickly sweet syrup of the pack bonds flow like molasses inside of her, and cause Azuleja to feel sick. It is as if the pack bonds are a drug, and she seems to be taking the drug without even trying.

Just like the thick syrup of the bonds, the day seemed to proceed at a suffocating pace. The constant battle against the poisonous threads that bind her to the pack and their effects exhaust Azuleja and she has to apologize to some of her clients after she snaps at them. By the time she stumbles into her apartment in León, Azu can barely keep her eyes open. She reheats some leftovers in the microwave after changing into sweatpants and a sports bra. She plans to spend the night binging _La Casa de Papel_ and eating comfort food, and that is exactly what she does. Well, she does exactly that from 6 to 9pm, when there’s a knock on her door. Azu doesn’t bother throwing on a shirt, just mutes the TV and tiredly answers the door. The first thing that strikes her is the scent, the same scent that… she has the same pink hair, too? 

“ _¿E- Emilia?”_ Azu sputters, a bit embarrassed but mainly surprised. 

Her first thought is, _¿Cómo conoció mi dirección?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Hoy es uno de esos días” -today is one of those days
> 
> “Pon tu atención en...” -Put your attention on other things... how many chairs are in the room or something like that.
> 
> “Unos conejos...” -some rabbits, too many people like always, the smell of rotten food...
> 
> La manada - the wolf pack
> 
> “Tengo que concentrarme...” -I have to concentrate on something different, this isn’t working.
> 
> “¿Que te pasa, loba?” -what's wrong, wolf?  
> “Todavía no estás...” -you are still not well enough to control us, human. And you already know it, too  
> “Sí, tienes razón, pero...” -Yes, you are right, but I need control to do my job. And this you already know, hmm?
> 
> La Luz - the light
> 
> “Oye, venga Mamá” -Hey, come here Mom  
> “Buenos días...” -Good morning, Lucia. The first (group session) starts at 9, right?
> 
> “El olor más nuevo...” -the newest smell here is only of a little mouse
> 
> “No puedo culparlos...” -I can’t blame them, for humans it is far too early to be talking about their problems.
> 
> “Hola, me llamo...” Hi, my name is Azuleja. How am I today? Well, I’m a little stressed but I’m still happy. And, to finish, I’m here because I work here, of course. Okay... Eduardo, can you start?
> 
> “Cansado no es un sensación” - tired isn’t a feeling
> 
> “Sean honestos” - be honest
> 
> “Hola, soy Azuleja. Estás aquí...” -Hi, I’m Azuleja. Are you here for the 9:00 group?
> 
> “Ah, sí, estoy...” -Uh, yes, I’m here for the group but... I don’t wan- I don’t wanna interrupt you, I can return later or something
> 
> “No no, pasa y entra...” -No no, come on in to the group, you won’t interrupt anything. What’s your name, honey?
> 
> “Emilia... me llamo Emilia” - Emilia... my name is Emilia
> 
> “Mucho gusto” - nice to meet you
> 
> La Casa de Papel - a show on Netflix, called “money heist” in English
> 
> “¿Como conoció mi dirección?” -How did she know my address?


	2. "Me dejaste con las ganas de probar más de ti"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here! Enjoy!
> 
> TW: lots of violence in this one! 
> 
> Title is from the song Adictiva by Anuel Aa and Daddy Yankee. It translates to: You left me with the desire to taste you again. 
> 
> **Translations will be at the end again :)
> 
> Comments always welcome!

“ _ Ah, perdóname, Emilia… puedes entrar y sentarte, voy a, pues, cambiar mi ropa. Dame un minuto por favor.”  _ Azu scurries off to her bedroom, throwing on a t-shirt and double-checking her appearance in the mirror. Emilia is dressed in a beautiful blue blouse and a black skirt with a chic silvery chain belt... and Azu is only in a sports bra! Despite the confidence that her clothes suggest, the girl hasn’t uttered a word since she entered, and Azu worries something is seriously wrong. She feels stupid, answering the door as she did.  _ Debo ser más profesional _ , she scolds herself, entering back into the living room. Emilia is sitting on the couch, looking very uncomfortable. She glances around the room almost fearfully, eyes darting wildly. As Azuleja nears her to sit in the leather chair opposite the couch, Emilia’s scent reaches her sensitive nose. The odd tang of it is slight, but enough to leave an impression. What leaves a larger impression on Azuleja, however, is the lack of fear to her scent. Azu takes a deep breath, and the still the sour smell of fear is absent. In fact -- she takes another deep breath -- Azu smells the rich musk of confidence coming off her subtly. It’s as if Emilia is trying to hide it her smug confidence, and is only acting terrified. Now it’s Azu’s turn to be the nervous one, and she asks herself,  _ ¿Con quien estoy jugando?  _ Her worry grows and her wolf rises up as a result. Her eyes start to glow faintly in the dim light of the room. She realizes that she should have started talking by now; she had let the silence stretch as her brain ran wild about the odd nature of Emilia. Azu clears her throat suddenly and Emilia shifts her gaze to meet the werewolf’s. 

“ _ Quiero decirlo otra vez: perdóname, Emilia. Ojalá que ahora estés… cómoda y podamos hablar. Entonces, ¿con que necesitas ayuda? Estoy aquí para ti.”  _

Azu speaks gently as she does in a session, but she feels her heart quicken still because now that she’s noticed it, the fact that _something_ is very wrong is becoming more apparent. Emilia meets Azuleja’s gaze yet again, as if she is going to start speaking. Instead, however, she seems to search the eyes of the werewolf, as if she is looking into _su_ _alma_. After what seems to be an eternity, Azuleja is able to rip away her eyes from the girl. Emilia’s eyes have a captivating quality to them, and cause waves of submissiveness to crash through her. Finally, the girl speaks. 

“ _ Puede… tengo tanto miedo, Señorita. Por favor, ¿se puede sentar usted conmigo?”  _

Emilia’s voice holds the telltale tremor of fear, and the scent actually begins to waft off of her now. This reassures Azu enough that she moves to sit by the girl to comfort her.  _ Posiblemente yo estaba equivocada, _ she thinks. And how she wanted to believe that.

It wasn’t hard for Azu to convince herself she had erred; the effects of Emilia’s stare still held her in their grasp, she actually smelled a hint of fear now, and she could even argue that it was the unusual strength of the pack bonds affecting her too. Whichever excuse Azu gave herself, it worked. 

She puts one arm lightly around her and Emilia leans into her. She starts to cry, or so it seems to the counselor. Azu just holds her, letting her release any emotion she needs to as the light from the muted TV flows over them. Gradually, the cries seem to change into hysterical laughter. This doesn’t immediately alarm Azuleja, since mood swings are especially common among her group. But this laughter takes on a chilling and maniacal quality, almost bordering on demonic. 

Without the human side expecting it, Azu’s wolf surges forwards. The creature gives the human side no time to ponder the lightning-quick change of the girl on her couch or the danger she presents. Azu moves to stand up, wrenching her arm off of Emilia’s shoulders. The girl, displaying unnatural reflexes, darts out her hand and catches the werewolf’s wrist before Azu is able to get away. She then produces a knife from the folds of her skirt, holding it in her other hand and thrusting it into the stomach of the other woman. When Azuleja tries to rip her wrist out of the grasp of Emilia’s fingers, gasping at the sudden pain, the girl releases her. The knife slips out roughly as a result of the movement, and Azuleja falls back, smashing her body into the coffee table. Her wolf and human sides work in tandem to fight the pain and shock, and her eyes glow bright blue flecked with gold in the dark room as she lays frozen on the table. 

The frenzied flashes from the TV behind Azuleja create a disturbing and stunning portrait of her aggressor. She appears years older, the façade of fear long gone and replaced with a look Azu recognizes; the bloodthirsty smile of a predator who has trapped its prey. What shocks the werewolf even further is when Emilia speaks in English with a heavy Russian accent. 

“Oh, you should have seen your face! I thought you were on to me, I did, but then you just  _ melted _ ! All it took was a glance and a few vulnerable moments,” she pauses to continue her maniacal laugh, “and I had you! Wow, it never gets old. And Konstantin said you were special, ha! The old man loves to give me a scare…” 

Though Azu lays still on top of her splintered coffee table as though she can’t understand Emilia, her mind is racing a mile a minute as she attempts to plan out her next move. Though her attacker appears to be full of unexpected surprises, she can’t alter the fact that she is human and is facing a werewolf. Though the pain from the stab wound is blinding, Emilia made one crucial mistake. From the pain, Azu can tell the knife isn’t silver. The pain doesn’t boil up angrily, flowing through her veins like a toxin as silver would. Instead, the pain from the wound is intense but not fully incapacitating.

As Azu goes through all these evaluations, the sound of her ragged breathing and pained gasps are drowned out by the torrent of rambling from Emilia. Though Azu had been working on learning English, mainly as a way to prove her independence from her pack, she is only able to make out a vague idea of what the girl is ranting about. The speech prattles on, and after the initial shock and paralysis wear off, Azu’s wolf surges forward. The creature gives the human side no time to ponder the lightning-quick change of the girl on her couch or to question what the plan is. Azu moves to stand up, ungracefully rolling off the destroyed table. She looks like a disheveled demon with her glowing eyes, bloody clothes, and labored breathing filling the room. Emilia stares at her, an exaggerated expression of shock and exasperation splayed across her face. 

“It’s rude to interrupt someone,  _ Azu _ , especially in the middle of a speech. Please, resume your position and I’ll continue,” she grumbles. As she finishes talking, she arches an eyebrow, as if she actually expects Azuleja to obey. Instead, the Spaniard responds with her own heavily accented and broken English. 

“It is rude also to stab a person,  _ Emilia _ ,” she growls. After a moment she scoffs, “ _ Y ni sé si Emilia es tu nombre _ .” 

“Villanelle,” the girl replies, holding out her bloody hand to the werewolf as a ridiculous peace offering. “It’s a pleasure to murder you,” she quips, smirking. 

Azuleja narrows her eyes, quickly becoming fed up with the banter. But… she stretches out her right hand to grasp Emil- Villanelle’s. Their eyes meet as they shake each other’s hands, and Azu fights the black hole feeling that the killer’s eyes emanate. Azu attempts to use the grip as leverage and tries to pull the Russian into her, but Villanelle also has a trick up her sleeve. As Azu pulls Villanelle into her, the assassin unclips her chain belt, using it to send a loaded punch into the werewolf’s jaw. The force threatens to separate the pair, but Villanelle now is the one pulling Azu into her. She sends a flurry of chain-wrapped punches into Azu’s abdomen, hitting the stab wound more than once. After the furious tirade, she lets her target go and Azu collapses.

The chain, which had seemed ordinary at first, reveals itself to be silver through the pain it delivers. Though the toxic, bubbling burn of silver had been absent with the initial stabbing, it now invaded the wound along with all the other wounds inflicted by Villanelle. The merciless attack leaves both Azu's human and wolf aspects stunned and incapacitated.. She lays crumpled on the floor, splinters of wood from the coffee table digging into her back and the glare of the TV increasing the pain in her head. Villanelle bends over, hands on her hips, as she regards her prey. Her pink hair falls gracefully around her face, making her appear grotesquely angelic amidst the gory scene. Her lips twist into an elated smile at the pain she’s dealt. She fixes her eyes on those of her fallen rival, as if she is waiting for something.

_ Ella es la gata que ha cazado y vencido su ratón… ¿Porque está aquí todavía?  _ Azu ponders sluggishly. Her breaths come in quick pants, and the pain radiating from her wounds threatens to drag her into the tempting depths of unconsciousness. She thinks with difficulty back to when she hunted with her pack. After bringing down their prey, she and her pack killed quickly and feasted. So what was this human waiting for? 

_ Si me quedara con mi presa y no la comiera, ¿que hubiera hecho?  _ she asks herself with urgency. It is getting harder and harder for Azu to form complete thoughts, and she knows she is running out of time. 

_ ¡Ay Dios mío! ¡Yo no estoy muerta! ¡Ella quiere verme morir!  _ The revelation floods into the werewolf’s sluggish mind suddenly, along with an ingenious idea. She has to convince the assassin that she’s dead! Azu starts to purposefully take shallow breaths, as if she is struggling for air. Then, she abruptly stops breathing. Now, she has to act quick. She can’t hold her breath much longer than a human.

Though Azu has stopped breathing, Villanelle’s gaze is  _ still _ glued to the wolf’s icy blue eyes. Azu thinks she must be waiting to see the life drain from them… it is an action she herself is familiar with. She wonders how in the hell she can pull that off. Her chest is tightening painfully as her lungs scream for air, and her wolf is restlessly pushing for her to do  _ something _ . Her wolf! Her eyes still house the cold, icy-blue glare and the gold flecks of her canine side. Maybe if Azu were to push away the wolf, letting her eyes fade back to their normal gray-blue hue, it would convince her attacker she is dead! She hurriedly shoves the wolf away from  _ la luz _ , hoping her eyes are adjusting as quickly. Fortunately, her wolf doesn’t put up any resistance, instinctively understanding the dire circumstances and trusting the human half. Along with her wolf fading, Azu’s vision starts to accumulate more and more black dots. The pain and lack of oxygen act as catalysts for the impending unconsciousness. 

Even though Azu can’t see her own eyes dulling, she can see Villanelle’s reactions. The killer’s eyes widen, becoming glassy and bright. Her lips part, and she takes in a reverential breath as she watches what she believes to be the life fading from her victim's eyes. As she watches, a ravenous look crosses her face and she kneels down next to Azu. She leans in close, her hair brushing over the wolf’s face and scent invading her nostrils as Azu struggles to stop her body from taking a breath. Villanelle brushes her parted lips against the omega’s neck, her teeth digging in with pressure that mounts until it becomes almost unbearable. Before her teeth break the skin, she pulls away suddenly, standing up rapidly. She doesn’t give a clue to her surprise; Azu, with her superior hearing, can’t pick up any commotion outside. Next thing she knows, Villanelle is leaving the scene as if she’s seen a ghost.

Azu doesn’t wait for her footsteps to recede; She gulps in air, throat and chest burning with the effort. Despite her valiant efforts to stay afloat amidst the sea of black dots in her vision, she isn’t able to hold out. She lays there, surrounded by bloody wooden splinters from the table that are highlighted by the glow of her TV. The flashes from the screen are seared across her eyelids as she finally falls unconscious. Azu isn’t awake to hear the footsteps returning to her door, to feel her body plucked off the ground effortlessly, or to protest being thrown in the back of the windowless van that speeds off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, perdóname, Emilia…” -Oh, forgive me Emilia. You can come in and sit down, I’m going to, well, change my clothes. Give me a minute, please.
> 
> “Debo ser más profesional” -I should be more professional
> 
> “¿Con quien estoy jugando?” -Who am I playing with?
> 
> “Quiero decirlo otra vez…” -I want to say it again: forgive me Emilia. I hope that now you are… comfortable and we can talk. So then, what do you need help with? I’m here for you.
> 
> Su alma - her soul
> 
> “Puede… tengo tanto miedo…” -Can you… I’m so scared, Miss. Please, can you sit with me?
> 
> “Posiblemente yo estaba equivocada” -Maybe I was wrong / mistaken
> 
> la luz - the light
> 
> “Ahora ni tampoco…” -Now I’m not even sure if Emilia is your name
> 
> “Ella es la gata que…” -She is the cat that has hunted and defeated its rat… Why is she still here?  
> “Si me quedara con mi presa…” -If I were to stay with my prey and not eat it, what would I have done?
> 
> “¡Ay Dios mío! ¡Yo no soy muerta! ¡Ella quiere verme morir!” -Oh my God! I’m not dead! She wants to watch me die!


	3. "Si tu no estás las ganas sólo crecen"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family reunion & police officers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Abuse and violence mentioned
> 
> The title is from the song Amanece by Anuel Aa this time. It translates to: "If you aren't around my desire only grows" or something like that :P
> 
> Like always, translations at the end! Thank you for the kudos so far! I really appreciate them and all you readers who are sticking with me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

****_“¿Cómo está nuestro omega, Adalia?”_ asks a gruff voice as its source enters the small room. The man takes up the bulk of the space, and the nurse is visibly intimidated by him. 

“ _Mejorando, señor. Todavía no se ha despertado. ¿Usted quiere que yo la de más tranquilizante o…?”_ the nurse answers the man respectfully but with an eagerness to her voice. It is well-known among the pack that their submissive has returned, and everyone is anxious for her to awake.

“ _Sí, Adalia. Puedes despertarla ahora. Yo sé que todos quieren que ella despierte. Llevale escaleras arriba cuando se despierta. Bueno, tengo que irme, nos vemos luego.”_ The man answers gruffly, and it is evident that he has other things on his mind. He leaves the room, his aura of power receding with him. Adalia sighs, returning to work. She changes the bag for the IV that snakes its way into the unconscious submissive’s arm to give her a new cocktail of drugs.

Soon enough, Azuleja will be awake. Along with adjusting the IV, Adalia also tightens the straps around Azu’s wrists and ankles. It is no secret to the rest of her pack members that she doesn't want anything to do with them. In fact, as soon as she had turned 18, Azu had gotten the police involved and a messy court battle with the pack ensued. To the rest of the world, they are just a large family. No one knows the secret of what they really are - and the deCares pack wants to keep it that way. Azu had filed abuse complaints against her pack members, and the threat of the police discovering the werewolves’ true nature was too great. Damián, alpha of the _Manada del Rio Cares_ , allowed Azu to leave in exchange for dropping the charges. In reality though, Damián knew Azu couldn't get far. Once a wolf gets too far away from their pack, the bonds that tie them emotionally with their packmates become weak. This leads to debilitating symptoms similar to drug withdrawal. While a strong wolf may be able to handle the separation until the illness fades, it is especially hard for a submissive wolf to shoulder the burden. This lead to Azu settling in the city of León, about 70 miles from the pack house, which is near el Parque Nacional de los Picos de Europa. The National Park provides the perfect cover for the werewolves to hunt, since it is inhabited by about 4 packs of regular wolves. 

All of the werewolves, excluding Azu, live in a large farmhouse-style home in the forest. The medical bay, housed in the basement, is where Azu is currently healing. She comes back to consciousness with Adalia standing close by. Waking up comes in quick flashes of scents, sounds, and feelings. 

_Flash_ . Bright, cold light. _Flash_ . Scents, familiar yet unplaceable. _Flash_ . Confusion, panic. _Flash_. A voice, cynical and hard. 

“ _Bienvenida a casa,”_ it echoes, over and over as though spoken by thousands of voices.

Finally truly awake, Azu moves instinctively to shield her eyes against the harsh onslaught of light. She meets resistance immediately, finding herself bound at the wrists and ankles. Though her body remains tied down, her eyes roll wildly around the room, taking in every detail in a matter of seconds. The last thing her misty gray eyes land on is the face of her apparent tormentor. 

“ _¿A- Adalia? No… no puede ser…”_ Her voice holds a soft tremor as she realizes where she is. As the revelation hits her, Azu’s voice swells into a scream. 

“ _¡No! ¡Dejame salir!”_ she yells desperately, filling the small room with the noise. Adalia stares down at her still, a haughty annoyance etched into her features. She waits until Azu gets everything out, letting her come to the realization that all of her attempts are fruitless on her own. Now only the sound of her labored breathing fills the room as she locks eyes with the nurse. 

“ _¿Has terminado, nena? Vas a despertar todos si grites así,”_ Adalia coos, her voice as smooth as honey. Though Azu makes no attempt to respond to the patronizing words, the smell of irritation flares up in the room, mingling with the sharp scent of fear already present. She keeps her eyes glued to Adalia’s still, unable to break away now without accepting defeat. 

Azu had forgotten how _different_ things worked with other werewolves. With humans, eye contact was natural and accepted. Prolonged eye contact, of course, could come off as aggressive or sexually suggestive. With other wolves, the culture is different. Every flash of eye contact, every touch, every word, every gesture is loaded. Even though Adalia is one of the lower ranking wolves, she is still above Azu. As an Omega, Azu is permanently at the bottom of the hierarchy. Technically, she should’ve never held eye contact in the first place with the other werewolf. 

The two stare each other down, both knowing that the victor is already determined. Adalia’s wolf creeps forward as an added threat, her eyes becoming a muddled amber hue. 

“ _Vamos, Ari_ , _no puedes ganar. Además, ya te has portado un poco mal, ¿no?”_ her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “ _¿No recuerdas las reglas, Ari? No debes hablar a tus dominantes con tanto irrespeto. Eso te va a ganar un castigo, chica.”_ The nurse grins, leaning in close to Azu. Azu finally wrenches her eyes away at the mention of punishment. 

She has countless scars from the “correctional discipline” she used to be put through before she moved to León. Though some of them were warranted, like when she would blatantly disobey orders, most of the punishments served to fuel the other wolves’ desire for a power trip. Though she knows from her past experience that to respond now would only make her situation worse, Azu can’t help herself.

She looks back over to where Adalia stands by the door. The other wolf had moved away from the bed while Azu was lost in thought. She stands at the table adjacent to the door, her back to Azu. 

“ _Adal-,”_ Azu begins, her voice rough, and then pauses. The stern voice of Damián interrupts her in her mind. _No debes hablar a tus superiores a menos que ellos hablen primero._ But Adalia has already turned around, her eyebrows raising as she waits for the omega to speak.

“ _Mi nombre no es Ari o Ariadna o lo que sea. Me llamo Azuleja,_ ” Azu asserts tightly. She makes sure to keep her gaze away from Adalia’s eyes; Azu doesn’t want to provoke her further. Despite the omega’s fear of violent backlash, Adalia responds with an amused smile.

“ _Azuleja_ ,” the nurse muses, testing how the word fits in her mouth. She continues, but the amusement has drained from her voice. “ _Naciste llamado Ariadna deCares, creciste llamado Ariadna deCares, y morirás llamado Ariadna deCares. Nadie va a llamarte Azuleja… eres una loba, no eres un pájaro. Y,_ Ari _, si me hables otra vez sin preguntando permiso, voy a castigarte.”_ Adalia finishes bitterly, then stalks out of the room.

She calls back over her shoulder as the door snaps shut, “ _Quédate aquí, regresaré.”_

Azu sighs, laying her head back on her pillow. She couldn’t let the words get to her.

 _Necesitaré jugar conforme a las reglas. Pero también tengo que irme lo antes posible_ , she thinks, pondering how she could accomplish both. As she reviews scenarios in her head, it becomes increasingly difficult to rationalize why she even wants to escape.

_Es como… ¡El gotero! Está dandome drogas para el dolor, pero tal vez también me da drogas que me nubla la mente y razonamiento._

Azu glances around the room, reaffirming that there are no cameras recording her. She knows that if she were to take out the IV, Adalia would notice immediately. Instead, Azu props herself up as best she can, yanking her wrist against the restraints to drag the metal stand towards her. Once it’s within reach, she fiddles with the handful of dials on it until the dripping fluids slow. She doesn’t fully turn it off for fear it may trigger an alarm, but the dosage is significantly lower. With a huff Azu pushes the stand away, collapsing heavily back on the bed. 

By the time Adalia returns, Azu’s wounds ache but her mind is less clouded. Adalia nears the cot that the omega is bound to wordlessly. Azu decides that the newfound silence between them is more manageable than the conversations they’d been having, and stays silent too. Though the drugs are almost fully worn off now, Azu still feels the heavy blanket of the pack bonds fueling her submissive nature. As Adalia starts to loosen the cuffs keeping her in place, Azu stays perfectly still. She had noticed that the guard posted outside the door, Luis, walk into the room when Adalia did. He now stands in the doorframe, his hulking figure filling it up. The omega knows that to try to escape now would be suicide… or close, because she knows the pack would rather keep her alive. 

After Adalia finishes detaching all the medical equipment and bonds from Azu, she motions for her to follow Luis. It seems as though the nurse is muted, literally and figuratively, in the presence of the high-ranking guard. The three werewolves proceed out of the small medical room and into a hallway as stark white as the room. Azu knows the rest of the rooms lining the hallways like the back of her hand, and yet as she walks by, the place gives off a hostile aura. The feeling stays with her as Luis leads her up a set of stairs to the main floor. They enter the living room, where Adán sits on the couch reading. He looks up as the trio enters, but his eyes quickly flit back towards the pages of his novel. 

“ _Ah, buenas tardes. El alfa quiere que todos vayan al comedor,”_ he says softly, fidgeting nervously under the gazes of the other wolves. 

When Adán looks back up at them to affirm that they heard him, Azu offers him a shy smile of support. Just like herself, Adán is very low in the pack hierarchy. He places just above Azu, if solely by the technicality that she has to be very last because of her nature. They had formed a strong friendship when Azu used to live in the pack house. They were called _“hermanos_.” Siblings. But it is evident that Azu’s abandonment of the pack upset Adán too. He narrows his eyes at the omega, then goes back to pretending to read his book. Azu is shaken back to reality at the deep rumble of Luis’s voice. 

“ _Buenas tardes, Adán,”_ he says after a moment’s reflection, “ _¿Por qué_ tú _no estás en el comedor? Dijiste que allí debemos estar, ¿no?”_ The warrior’s voice flows with powerful ease, and Adán nods quickly at his words. He stands up abruptly, but stays respectfully by the couch to let the trio pass. Luis nods, satisfied, and strolls towards the dining room. Azu starts to follow after him, but freezes as echoes of etiquette lessons drift through her mind once again. 

_¿Debo dejarle pasar enfrente de mi? Técnicamente es superior a mí,_ she thinks, still rooted in place. 

Her eyes drift up to Adán’s with hesitance. Azu can smell Adalia becoming impatient behind her. Adán’s eyes are as hard and sharp as flint as he regards the omega. He holds eye contact for a few long seconds, watching the way his old friend reacts. Azu barely feels power in his gaze, but a wave of regret washes over her as they keep their eyes locked. It’s as strong as any surge of submissiveness, and Azu feels a deep ache in her chest. As she drops her eyes to the floor, cheeks aflame with guilt, Adán shakes his head and stalks out of the room. Azu is in no hurry to follow close behind, but a shove from Adalia forces her to stumble forward too.

They emerge in the dining room to find the table laid out for a feast. The light is low, the room lit only by candles. All of the places are set already, gleaming white plates reflecting the candlelight like small moons. The rest of the deCares pack is already seated as the two enter the room. The soft whispers stop on the arrival of the two remaining pack members. Azu takes her seat swiftly and automatically, keeping her eyes glued to the empty plate in front of her. The glossy ceramic of the white plate sends a distorted reflection back to the omega. Her face is warped to the point of being unrecognizable, and the soft glow of her eyes is muted and blurry. She stares at her reflection, wondering if this is how everyone sees her. A blurry reflection, existing only when they want to see her. The same feelings of regret and guilt sit like burning coals in her throat. 

_¿Habría sido mejor si me hubiera quedado aquí? Soy una loba con piel de oveja cuando vivo con los humanos. Pero aquí… aquí yo siento como si sea una borrega. No puedo vivir en esos mundos ambos, pero no puedo sobrevivir en sólo uno de ellos. Creo que--_

Azu jerks her head up at the sound of her name.

“ _...a nuestro omega, Ariadna_ ,” the alpha finishes, baring his teeth in a confrontational smile at Azu. She looks around the table, finding all eyes on her, as numerous as the stars in the night sky. It sounds as though Damián has just finished a speech and is waiting to see what Azu’s reaction is. Fortunately for the omega, she hadn’t been listening so the desired antagonistic effect of the words is lost. 

_¿Él quiere que yo reaccione con indignación? ¿O estoy interpretandolo equivocadamente? …Posiblemente yo sólo quiero convertirles en mis enemigos._

Azu grits her teeth, not finding any answers in the eyes of her packmates. The tension in the room is oppressive, and the alpha looks at her expectantly. They lock eyes for barely a second before Azu becomes submerged in the overwhelming dominance of his icy gaze. She drops her eyes as quickly as she had met his, gulping against the burning in her throat. Instead of trying to analyze the situation any more, she looks back once more at her reflection in the plate. She holds the gaze of her blurry twin, blood pounding in her ears and a nervous knot sitting in her stomach. Azu hasn’t eaten since the night Villanelle attacked her, and the effects are worsening. After what seems like an eternity of long seconds, the alpha finally rises from his seat without a word. He walks around the table and into the adjoining kitchen, returning with two large roasts. The smell fills the room, swirling tantalizing around the dim space. 

Azu continues staring at the plate in front of her, head bent and eyes glossy with tears. As the leader passes Azu on his second trip he stops by her chair. The omega doesn’t dare raise her head to acknowledge his presence. Damián places one large, heavy hand on her head, ruffling her hair. He makes a soothing noise, patting Azu twice on her messy head, then continues bringing in food from the kitchen. Damián, his beta, and his warriors help dish out the food to the rest of the pack. Azu’s trance is broken as steaming food is piled onto her plate, blocking out her reflection. Her mouth waters in response to the enticing meal. 

The alpha, beta, and enforcers take their seats after everyone is served. All around the table, glowing eyes turn to Damián. He sits at the head of the table, power radiating off him in thick, tangible waves. The alpha in his element, watching the other wolves wait for the signal to start eating. Slowly but steadily, he picks up his fork and knife with deft fingers and cuts his portion of roast into pieces. Damián takes his time, making sure each one of his wolves are captivated by the performance. He spears a mouthful of meat with his fork, bringing it to his lips leisurely. Finally he takes the bite into his mouth, smiling as he chews. With a small wave of his fork, Damián tells the other wolves they can eat. Instantaneously the room is filled with a cacophony of silverware scraping plates, light chatter, and drinks being poured. 

The change in atmosphere of the dinner isn’t transferred to Azu; she stays quiet for the duration, all of her focus on the meal in front of her. Beneath her reserved facade lies a storm of emotions. Guilt, anxiety, regret, and fear all struggle to overthrow the fragile exterior that the omega has erected. The smell of all the emotions can surely be detected by the other wolves in the room, but Azu feels that she needs to hold on to some semblance of self-control. 

_Pensé que si alguna vez regresara, yo me hubiera sentido más odio a la manada, o hubiera tenido las ganas más fuerte de irme otra vez. Pero sí he regresado y… sólo me siento un montón de culpa y arrepentimiento. ¿Estoy confundida?_ Panicked, half-formed thoughts bounce off the walls of her mind. Her wolf, subdued by the strong pack bonds, doesn't offer much in the way of advice. Instead, Azu turns to her profession for answers.

 _¿Qué les diría a mis niños en terapia de grupo? Si ellos tuvi--_ She cuts herself off at the sudden remembrance of her job. A ripple of chilly panic shoots up Azu’s spine. Her job, the kids, Lucía… It all seems worlds away from the stresses of the pack, but that doesn’t stop Azu from worrying about it. The list grows in her head: her wounds, the attack, Adalia’s tormenting, Damián’s odd smile, Adán’s chilly glare, the rules never fully forgotten, her job, her kids… Each stressor compounds on the other, creating a writhing mass of anxiety and hysteria that sits in the pit of the omega’s stomach and threatens to force up her latest meal. Azu sits trembling in her chair, eyes brimming with tears. Azu’s mask of resentment has crumbled, and her tears splash onto her lap, leaving salty trails in their wake. Her blurry vision warps the scene in front of her. The candles shoot off wavering strips of light, and the glowing eyes of the other wolves swim in her hazy vision. 

_No sé cómo sentirme… O porque me siento como me siento, de verdad. ¡Debo estar escapando, peleando, aguantando! Pero siento aquí en mi silla llorando como un bebé. ¿Y por qué? Estoy llorando por mis captores, pero eso entendimiento no parará mis sentimientos de culpa._ She continues her endless monologue, sinking deeper into herself until she is only physically present at the space. Her brain thinks about everything at once and she feels as though she’s drowning in thought. She has no way of stopping it, so she just says nothing and does nothing. She sits.

The room has emptied out, the other werewolves cleaning up and heading off to other rooms. Only Damián, Rodolfo, and Adalia remain. For the fourth time that day, Azu is pulled back to the real world. The sound of Damián clearing his throat draws her thoughts back to the present and her gaze to the alpha. He stands across the table, arms crossed and a subtle frown on his rugged face. Damián is flanked by Adalia and his beta, Rodolfo. Azu glances between the three, wanting to burst, let her emotions break free like the wild animal inside her would. But she can’t. Azu can’t even begin to find the words to express her emotions, her pain, her thoughts, her intentions. Instead, she blurts out the first thing she can think of to distract the werewolves from her current state.

“¡ _Gatsby muere en el fin! ¿Adáń sabe esto? Estaba leyendo_ El Gran Gatsby _… va a ponerse triste. Alguien--,”_ Azu babbles, the tremor in her voice painfully apparent. She stops herself as Damián cuts in, but he doesn’t address her. He keeps his body directed towards the omega, but turns his head slightly in Adalia’s direction as he speaks.

“ _Pobrecita… Llevale_ _otra vez al sótano, Adalia. Creo que necesite dormir,”_ he orders. Adalia nods at his words, and a small, annoyed sigh barely escapes her lips as she walks towards Azu. Azu feels her panic rising still as the other wolf nears her. Despite wanting to get away from the watchful eyes of her pack members, she isn’t especially eager to spend the whole night locked away in a room all by herself. She can’t find the words to say anything meaningful, to express her growing concerns. Instead, Azu rises silently before Adalia can get too close, following her out of the dining room under the vigilant eyes of her alpha and beta. 

The turmoil inside Azu continues as she is escorted back to the medical ward by Adalia to be locked in for the night. She is shaking with a nervous energy, and her scent is charged with anxiety that she knows Adalia can smell. When they arrive at the room, Azu isn’t hooked up to the IV, but the bonds are tightened securely around her wrists and ankles. Adalia gives Azu an exaggerated, flirty wink as she tightens the restraints. The nurse appears to either want to annoy Azu, or cheer her up.

 _Posiblemente los dos_ , Azu thinks. She responds to Adalia’s efforts with a small, tight smile to be polite. Adalia moves away to clean up around the room while Azu stares up at the ceiling. The fluorescent light burns its signature onto Azu’s eyes until they begin to water. The imprint remains as Adalia approaches Azu’s cot again, and blocks out most of her face with its rosy, ethereal glow. Azu blinks up at the other wolf, and a strange sense of longing envelopes her. She doesn’t want Adalia to leave - she’ll be all alone with her feelings until morning. Azu wonders how she can feel so many conflicting emotions about everything. She knows she should be wary of Adalia and the rest of the pack, but she also feels a camaraderie with them. Even though they can be toxic, they’re still her family. In the same strange way, it is comforting when Adalia leans over and kisses Azu on the forehead gently. Her eyes glint with mischief, and the smile that spreads across her face is similar to the one that Damián had given her at dinner. When Azu reacts only with a hollow smile, Adalia purses her lips. Azu knows Adalia didn’t mean anything by the action, and the nurse doesn’t realize that the gesture fills the omega with a small spark of warmth, starting to thaw the chilly grasp of panic. 

Eventually Adalia leaves the room, letting a curt “ _buenas noches”_ hang in the air as she locks the door. She had flicked off the lights when she left, leaving Azu alone in the abyss of total darkness. The only sound in the room is her own breathing, as now the hum of the fluorescent lights is gone too. Azu breathes, deep and shuddering. The darkness swells and ebbs around her, creating an island out of her bed amidst its rolling tide. In the utter blackness, Azu’s eyes create shapes and figures that mirror her anxious thoughts. 

_Es como he andado al interior de mi cerebro,_ she marvels, torn between wonder and fear at the forms in front of her. She watches the shapes, stuck in a sleepless sleep paralysis from the cuffs binding her. The initial wonder starts to fade when the shapes start to become more sinister and chaotic. Azu sees events from the past few days in flashes of moments, just like when she woke up. 

_Flash_ . The steely glint of the knife, of the silver chain. _Flash_ . Villanelle’s face staring down at her. _Flash_ . Bright lights, Adalia’s face twisted into a smug smile. _Flash._ Adán’s glare, cold and filled with spite. _Flash._ Candlelit dinner, her reflection in the glossy plate. _Flash._

As they continue on, scenes from Azu’s past permeate the other bursts of images. She sees memories from her childhood in the pack house, from her first years living in León, and her days as a counselor. Azu feels fully immersed in the void, caught between consciousness and sleep. She slowly descends deeper into herself, leaving the darkness of the room behind and entering her own. As the echoes of past experiences flare up, Azu’s wolf appears to her subconscious mind unexpectedly. The creature pushes through the fragments of memories and dreams, shattering them into miniscule pieces that are no longer recognizable. Her fur ripples with glinting shards, and she takes one powerful step forwards. The footfall causes the black space surrounding the pair to ripple like the wolf’s pelt. 

The landscape shifts, the waves changing it with each crest. Soon the human and wolf sides of Azu face each other in a golden wheat field. Now a glowing sun shines down on the pair from above, and the stalks of wheat undulate under a steady breeze. The sky is shockingly blue against the golden field and sun, the same shade as the wolf’s eyes. An even starker contrast is revealed as the creature steps softly toward the human through the grain. Its jet black fur stands out, a chaotically beautiful clash with the environment around them. Azu’s human and wolf approach each other through the field, their speed increasing to match their desperation for connection. Soon they are both sprinting, pouring both soul and body into their calamitous pursuit. Even as the two near each other, they show no signs of stopping. They’re like two white-hot meteors on a collision path, except the inevitable crash doesn’t destroy. They do meet with a heavy thud, but the effect is synergistic, not destructive. The wolf and human smash together, but never separate. The human stands unaccompanied, but she isn’t alone. Both of Azu’s aspects share the control of the singular body, and the blazingly obvious symbolism isn’t lost on either one. _Son unidos otra vez._

The days continue on in the same fashion, with the same dull and repetitive schedule. Wake up. Breakfast. Roam the house. Lunch. Occasionally, hunting with the pack. Dinner. Throughout the monotony of the days, Azu’s mind runs wild. Though physically she is restrained to the house, unable to leave, her mind soars past all boundaries. It keeps Azu from succumbing to boredom, but it works too well; she ends up anxious and depressed.

On the fifth day, the cycle is broken. Azu sits in the kitchen having lunch with Adalia, Rodolfo, and Carmen. Carmen, Rodolfo’s wife, is Azu’s one true ally within the pack. Though her status as the beta’s spouse gives her an honorary high rank, she is technically only 3 spots above Azu. Carmen and Azu don’t see much of each other, so the omega finds herself in a surprisingly good mood today. The four wolves sit around the island in the kitchen, chatting while they eat leftovers from a hunt. Carmen gives Azu the ability to talk by speaking to her directly, something many of the other wolves elect to ignore. Even if they only make small talk, avoiding any of the landmines around topics such as Azu’s escape, Azu enjoys the small window of time. 

“ _La carne está de vicio, ¿no? ¿Te gusta la comida, Ari?”_ Carmen prods the omega with the end of her fork, trying to break her out of the haze she’s been in for days. 

“ _Ah, sí, Señora Carmen, me encanta la carne de venado. Pues, no la he comido… hace muchos años,”_ Azu speculates, taking a sip of her water. She is eating at a snail’s pace, trying to draw out the meal as long as possible. Now Adalia chimes in, always worried for Azu’s health. 

“ _Dime si te sientas rara, sumi. Quizás la carne te cayere mal al estomago. Has mejorado mucho y no queremos que se deteriore tu salud otra vez,”_

“ _Bueno, gracias,”_ Azu affirms, not reacting in the slightest to yet another nickname of Adalia’s. _“Sumi,” nena, chica,_ and _“ome”_ are all favorites of Adalia’s.

The banter and chatter continues amongst the wolves until everyone is finished eating except Azu. None of them seem bothered, however, and they continue talking as Azu eats. The omega starts drifting into the recesses of her mind once again, but today the memories conjured are happy ones. She sees younger versions of herself and Adán playing hide and seek, pack movie nights, hunts under the stars from ages ago. When she breaks out of her reverie to take another bite of venison, the other wolves are looking at her with surprise. 

“¡ _Está sonriendo, tío!”_

“ _Oigo… ¿tarareando?”_

Azu starts to laugh unabashedly with her pack members. She had been _humming_! Even Rodolfo gives her a big, cheesy grin from across the island. Soon everyone is recounting stories from happier times. Azu even finishes her lunch, but no one seems to care. 

_Eso… eso es lo que quiero. Viviendo con la manada debe ser más como esto. Con sonrisas, alegría, y riendo._

The futile celebration endures until the doorbell rings. The sensitive ears of the wolves pick up the tune immediately, even over the racket of the werewolves in the kitchen. The noise dies down quickly throughout the whole house. For a few slow moments, everyone is transfixed on the door. Then Damián is heard thundering down the stairs and into the entryway, where he spins around and eyes his packmates in the kitchen suspiciously. 

“ _¿Quién ‘tá afuera?”_ he booms. No one in the kitchen responds, so the beta just shrugs sheepishly at their leader. Damián purses his lips, narrowing his eyes as he glares at the door as if he expects it to answer. More werewolves trickle in, everyone staring at the door with wide eyes. No one ever visits the pack house. No guests, no deliveries, no mail. All the pack members move freely in and out of the house, and the doorbell is never used. Until now. 

_Ding Dong! Ding Dong!_

The haunting tune echoes throughout the silent house, and the tension in the air crackles. Azu jumps at the noise, and Carmen reaches over to steady her. Whoever’s at the door is becoming impatient. Everyone waits for Damián’s orders, barely breathing. Finally he motions to Rodolfo and Andres, gesturing from them to the door. The two muscled men traipse to the door, faces grim. The other enforcer, Luis, ushers the rest of the pack back into adjoining rooms. Azu watches from the kitchen with Adalia and Carmen, staring at the door still. 

_¿Es una amenaza? O… ¿puede ser mi ángel de la guarda, quien va a salvarme?_

Her thoughts are interrupted as Damián steps into her view, blocking the door from her eyes. Azu looks at the floor, irrationally wondering if the alpha had heard her thoughts. He waves a hand in front of her face, and Azu jumps again. But the gesture isn’t the blur of an incoming slap; Damián signals to the door like he had to the beta and warrior. Azu, surprised, quickly walks over to the door.

Joining Rodolfo and Andres, she waits anxiously for them to open the door. Flanked now by the bulky wolves, Azu knows she can’t just run out the door. However, it will be the closest she’s come to stepping outside in what seems like forever. 

_Además, si me porto bien, posiblemente ellos me dejaren salir pronto._

Rodolfo opens the door with a flourish, an easy smile gracing his face. The door swings past Azu’s view quickly. Her eyes take in the woman in front of her. She’s a police officer, apparent by her uniform. Her hair is soft and golden, swept up into an effortless bun. When she speaks, her voice is musical, her Andalusian dialect lending it a beautiful fluidity. 

“ _Buenos días. ¿Cómo estáis ustedes?”_ she says, addressing them informally. She offers a bright smile, and looks at the three people in front of her as if they’re all old friends. Rodolfo replies with a greeting, or maybe Andres does. Azu stops listening when the policewoman’s scent drifts to her nose. Her vision flares brightly as her wolf side steps forward, pushing through to share the light with her human side. The creature helps calm the human’s panic and anxiety, trying to get her to think rationally. 

_¡Hostias! ¡Debo gritar!_ But Azu doesn’t. Something cunning, something twisted, something with a canny desire to _survive_ stops her. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t panic, doesn’t alert the two warriors beside her. Azu lets Rodolfo invite her attacker into the house, even stepping politely out of the way to let her pass. 

And so she lets the killer enter once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “¿Cómo está nuestro omega, Adalia?” - How’s our omega, Adalia? 
> 
> “Mejorando, señor. Todavía…” -Getting better, sir. She still hasn’t woken up. Would you like me to give her more tranquilizer, or…?
> 
> “Sí, Adalia. Puedes despertarla…” -Yes, Adalia. You can wake her up now. I know that everyone wants her to wake up. Bring her upstairs when she wakes up. Okay, I have to go, we’ll see each other later.
> 
> Manada del Rio Cares - Cares River Pack
> 
> “Bienvenida a casa” - Welcome home
> 
> “¿A- Adalia? No… no puede ser…” - A-Adalia? It… It can’t be...
> 
> “¡No! ¡Dejame salir!” -No! Let me go!
> 
> “¿Has terminado, nena? Vas…” - Have you finished, honey? You’re going to wake everyone up if you scream like that.
> 
> “Vamos, Ari, no puedes…” to “...un castigo, chica.” -Come on, Ari, you can’t win. Plus, you’ve already been a bit naughty, hm? You don’t remember the rules, Ari? You shouldn’t talk to your dominants with such disrespect. That’s going to earn you a punishment, chica.
> 
> “Mi nombre no es Ari…” -My name isn’t Ari or Ariadna or whatever. My name is Azuleja.
> 
> “Naciste llamado Ariadna…” -You were born Ariadna deCares, you grew up Ariadna deCares, and you will die Ariadna deCares. No one is going to call you Azuleja… you’re a wolf, not a bird. And, Ari, if you talk to me again without asking for permission, I’m going to punish you.
> 
> “Quédate aquí, regresaré.” -Stay here, I’ll return.
> 
> “Necesitaré jugar conforme…” -I will need to play by the rules. But I also have to get out of here as soon as possible. 
> 
> “Es como… ¡El gotero! Está…” -It’s like… the IV! It’s giving me drugs for the pain, but maybe it also gives me drugs that cloud my mind and reasoning. 
> 
> “Ah, buenas tardes. El alfa…” - Uh, good afternoon. The alpha wants everyone to go to the dining room.
> 
> “Buenas tardes, Adán… ¿Por qué tú no…” -Good afternoon, Adán. Why aren’t you in the dining room? You said that that's where we should be, yeah?
> 
> “¿Debo dejarle pasar…” -Should I let him pass in front of me? Technically he’s superior to me.
> 
> “¿Habría sido mejor…” -Would it have been better if I had stayed here? I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I live with the humans. But here… here I feel as if I’m a sheep. I can’t live in both these worlds, but I can’t survive in only one of them. I believe… 
> 
> “...a nuestro omega, Ariadna,” - …to our omega, Ariadna 
> 
> “¿Él quiere que yo…” - Does he want me to react with outrage? Or am I interpreting it wrong? ...Maybe I only want to make them into my enemies. 
> 
> “Pensé que si alguna…” -I thought that if I ever returned, I would have felt more hatred towards the pack, or I would have had a stronger desire to leave again. But I have returned and… I only feel a mountain of guilt and regret. Am I confused?
> 
> “¿Qué les diría…” -What would I tell my kids in group therapy. If they had… 
> 
> “No sé cómo sentirme… O porque…” -I don’t know how to feel… Or why I feel how I feel, actually. I should be escaping, fighting, resisting! But I sit here in my seat, crying like a baby. And why? I’m crying for my captors, but this understanding won’t stop my feelings of guilt. 
> 
> “¡Gatsby muere…” -Gatsby dies in the end! Does Adán know? He was reading The Great Gatsby… he’s going to make himself sad. Someone--
> 
> “Pobrecita… Llevale…” -Poor little thing… Bring her to the basement again, Adalia. I think she needs to sleep.
> 
> “Posiblemente los dos” -Maybe both
> 
> “Es como he andado al interior de mi cerebro” -It’s like I’ve walked into the inside of my brain
> 
> “Son unidos otra vez.” -We’re united once again
> 
> “La carne está…” -The meat is delicious, huh? Do you like the food, Ari?
> 
> “Ah, sí, Señora…” -Uh, yes, Mrs. Carmen, I love the venison. Well, I haven’t eaten it… for many years.
> 
> “Dime si te sientas…” -Tell me if you feel weird, sub. Maybe the meat will upset your stomach. You’ve improved a lot and we don’t want your health to deteriorate again.
> 
> “Bueno, gracias” -Okay, thank you.
> 
> “Sumi,” nena, chica, and “ome” -Sub, baby/darling/honey, girl, and ome (short for omega)
> 
> “¡Está sonriendo, tío!” “Oigo… ¿tarareando?” -She’s smiling, dude! I hear… humming?
> 
> “Eso… eso es lo que quiero. Viviendo…” -That… that is what I want. Living with the pack should be more like this. With smiles, joy, and laughing. 
> 
> “¿Quién ‘tá afuera?” - Who’s outside?
> 
> “¿Es una amenaza…” -Is it a threat? Or… could it be my guardian angel, who’s going to save me?
> 
> “Además, si me porto…” -Plus, if I behave well, maybe they will let me go out soon.
> 
> “Buenos días. ¿Cómo estáis ustedes?” -Good morning. How are you guys? (Andalusian dialect)
> 
> “¡Hostias! ¡Debo gritar!” - Holy shit! I should yell!


	4. “Tú y yo nos miramos como si las miradas mataran/Es pa' que estuviese muerta ya hace rato”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee tables, cars, guns, running, all that good stuff. Feat. DOGGO!!! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title this time is from the song El Favor by (lots of people but) Nicky Jam. It translates to: "You and I look at each other as if looks could kill / It's because I've been dead for a while  
> Thanks everyone for the kudos! I'm grateful for you readers who are sticking with me. Um, yeah that should be it. Sorry this took awhile but I hope the wait was worth it
> 
> Okay so there's a BUNCH of translations that I ran out of room in the end notes, oops! Here's some of the very first things said in Spanish, the rest will be at the bottom. Sorry :/
> 
> TRANSLATIONS (1/2):
> 
> “Me encanta vuestro casa,” -I love your house (very informal)
> 
> “Bienvenida, señorita. Disculpeme…” -Welcome miss. Excuse me, but I have to ask… Why are you here? We don’t receive many visitors like yourself. (Speaking formally here). 
> 
> “Ah, pa’ece que se me olvidó…” -Oh, it appears that I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Inspector Brillo. I’m here to speak with Miss…
> 
> “Ajá, aquí lo tengo…” -Aha, here I have it
> 
> “la Señorita Azuleja sobre un ataque hace unos días.” -Ms. Azuleja about an attack a few days ago
> 
> “Soy yo, inspectora. Me daría tanto gusto…” -It’s me, Inspector. I would absolutely love to talk with you. I know everyone wants to forget about this and continue on with their days, yeah? 
> 
> “Vale, Señorita Azu, quiero que mires que aquí lo tengo esta…,” -Okay, Miss Azu, I want you to see that here I have this…
> 
> “Como un perro” -like a dog
> 
> “pero también… ¿nerviosa?” -but also… nervous?
> 
> “Unos de los mismos olores…” -Some of the same scents that I smelled in my apartment the day of the attack. And again I smell that scent that I can’t identify.
> 
> Sticking this here because I forgot to add it: el toro = a bull

She had forgotten how exceptional of an actor the assassin is. Villanelle steps through the doorway with small, mouse-like steps. She barely glances at Azu, apparently taking in the house and the most threatening of its inhabitants. Just as a police officer would. 

“ _Me encanta vuestro casa,”_ she muses, a cheery smile still plastered on her face. She is a snake among wolves, patiently waiting to shed her sheep’s skin and strike. And the wolves eat it up.

“ _Bienvenida, señorita. Disculpeme, pero tengo que preguntar… ¿por qué está aquí? No recibimos muchos visitantes como usted,”_ Damián interjects, his deep rumbling voice quickly taking control of the conversation as he steps into the room. The conversation has a light, airy feel to it. But the wolves are anything but relaxed. Undertones of tension swirl and the some of the werewolves’ eyes start to sparkle. 

Villanelle flicks her gaze to stare at Damián in ostensible wonder, acting impressed by his rugged features, deep voice, and commanding gaze. Just as any impressionable, innocent young girl would. 

“ _Ah, pa’ece que se me he olvida’o mis mane’as. Yo soy inspectora Brillo. Estoy aquí pa’ hablar con la Señorita…”_ She trails off, and it is obvious she has forgotten something more important than her manners. She starts patting her pockets with a hurried anxiety, the smile on her face wobbling slightly. Damián takes the opportunity to motion subtly to his enforces. They pick up on the cue, clearing most of the wolves that had congregated. Though Damián would love an audience as he unravels the fragile woman in front of him, he recognizes that the situation is anything but light. He also knows that unless he plays his cards carefully, he won’t continue to have the upper hand for long. But how hard could it be to charm this delicate girl who looks incapable of hurting a fly? 

“ _Ajá, aquí lo tengo…,”_ Villanelle mutters, snatching a crumpled notepad from some hidden alcove in her jacket. She straightens up, adjusting her coat and her smile so they shine impeccably. She finishes her sentence from before, announcing she is here to talk with “ _la Señorita Azuleja sobre un ataque hace unos días.”_ She looks expectantly at Damián, a puppy waiting for a bone. The alpha clears his throat, weighing the situation in his mind. The last time the police had visited their house, he had lost his most prized possession. He couldn’t let her slip from his hands again. On the other hand, if he were to deny _la inspectora Brillo_ access to Azu, he might have to deal with more competent police officers later. He opens his mouth to speak, but words come out of Azu’s instead. 

“ _Soy yo, inspectora. Me daría_ tanto _gusto hablar con usted. Sé que todos quieren olvidar de eso y continuar con sus días, ¿no?”_ Azu’s voice holds a steely determination that mirrors the fire in her eyes. A plan is hatching in her head; a reckless, half-baked plan that would reveal dire secrets to a Russian assassin in exchange for, well, _probably_ dying. 

She knows a few key components of her plan that _will_ work. Speaking out of turn, for example, will have to go unpunished because of their guest. Technically Azu could get out of any punishment until the police officer leaves… except, of course, Villanelle would only leave after she’s dead, so she can’t spend too much time having fun. Azu also knows that Damián will want this encounter over as quickly as possible. He’ll let Brillo speak with his omega because, in his eyes, she’s as submissive as Azu. Damián will try to send either Luis or Andres with Azu so they can make sure she doesn’t mention anything provocative. But Villanelle will have to request to speak with Azu alone. Damián will once again have to agree, but will rest safe knowing that the werewolves’ advanced hearing will eliminate this obstacle. And _this_ is where things will get tricky. 

Everything passes exactly as planned, and Azu is led to a small study adjacent to the living room with Villanelle. Luis is posted as a guard, so he sits on the couch in the living room. The door is closed, the two sit in the study, and the chess match begins. Villanelle speaks first,

“ _Vale, Señorita Azu, quiero que mires que aquí lo tengo esta…,”_ she advises smoothly, holding the Andalusian dialect perfectly as she reveals a silenced pistol. Despite staying in character with her voice, Villanelle’s lips twist Brillo’s cheery smile into a bloodchilling grin. Azu’s heart starts to beat quickly, her wolf pacing restlessly inside of her. She doesn’t let her fear spread to her face, keeping it tamped down where her wolf normally resides. Azu fixes Villanelle with a disdainful look, slowly shaking her head. Villanelle tilts her head slightly, trying to call the werewolf’s bluff. She dramatically reaches her free hand up to the top of the gun, cocking it with an ominous _click_.

“You will not. Bad idea, ok?” Azu whispers softly enough that the wolves outside won’t hear, speaking English as an added layer of protection. Villanelle leans forward in her easy chair, lifting her legs from where she had propped them up on the coffee table and planting them firmly on the floor. She lifts herself with effort to her feet and steps around to the other side of the coffee table, sitting on the edge. Azu freezes in place at the sudden proximity. Villanelle’s legs push against Azu’s, who sits in another easy chair, now in front of the assassin. 

“I _won’t_? Don’t think it makes you special that you’re still alive,” she growls quietly and her grin drops into a scowl, then sighs, “You really were a pain in my ass.” Villanelle lifts the gun again, aiming it at Azu’s chest. 

“ _Ciento cincuenta_. 150. Your heart,” she points a finger gingerly at Villanelle’s heart. 

“Okay, now I know what Konstantin meant about ‘special,’” she rolls her eyes, but doesn’t pull the trigger. Azu seizes the opportunity and keeps talking. She takes one hand and places it above her own heart, pushing it in and out to mimic a heart pumping.

“I hear your heart,” she gestures to the door, “and they hear your heart also. _La pistola_ is louder. They hear that more. Strong ears, _como_ _un… perro_ , yes? You attack, they attack.”

The assassin grins again, and this time she’s the one throwing Azu a pitying look. 

“Bull…” she deadpans, “...shit.”

Azu recognizes the swear, but isn’t sure what _un toro_ has to do with the situation. She disregards the response except for noting that Villanelle, while intrigued, is becoming bored with their game. So Azu spits out more observations. 

“In. Out. In. Out,” she whispers back, syncing her counting with the Russian’s breath. 

“You are…,” Azu takes a deep breath, Villanelle’s scent easily reaching her nose because of their extreme proximity. “...irritated but interested, excited _pero también_ … ¿ _nerviosa?_ Nervous?”

 _Unos de los mismos olores que olía en mi apartamento el día del ataque. Y otra vez huelo ese olor que no puedo identificar._ As Azu contemplates the mystery of the woman in front of her, Villanelle becomes offended by her analysis. 

“Nervous? I may be excited, Jay, and you know what they say,” she pauses as a teacher would, but Azu is having a difficult time thinking straight. From the gun pointed at her head, no doubt. Not the fact that Villanelle’s breath ghosts over her skin every time she talks. Or how Azu can see every detail in her alluring eyes. And definitely not from the fact that they are inches apart, legs tangled together in the small space between the chair and coffee table. 

“…the body can’t distinguish fear from excitement. Oh don’t get yourself worked up,” she laughs lowly, sending a shiver through the werewolf, “I’m never afraid. Especially not when I have my targets _exactly_ where I want them,” she grins, baring her teeth. 

Azu reaches for her wolf’s support, but is surprised to find the animal already present and sharing the light with her human side. 

_No me di cuenta que Villanelle me ha afectado tanto. Tengo que tener más cuidado._

Her wolf agrees, and pushes again against the human side. The wolf forces Azu’s gaze away from the killer’s eyes, and suddenly Azu can think straight again. 

_Los ojos de ella son cautivadores. No los mires._

She heeds the advice of her wolf, keeping her eyes anywhere but Villanelle’s. She takes in a deep breath before breaking the silence that has fallen over the room. Azu knows she should stay focused, but she can’t help herself.

“Jay?” Azu questions, her accent garbling the nickname. At the same time, she debates her options in her head. She knows she could call the other werewolves in here, which would be the easy option. However, Azu starts to favor another route. She had realized something important; the guilt that she has been feeling only returned after she arrived at the pack house. She has a lurking suspicion that the pack bonds and her manipulative packmates had intensified her emotions. Because of this, she rationalizes, she may truly feel somewhat guilty, but her freedom and independence are worth more. 

Villanelle shrugs nonchalantly, “Oh,” she sighs softly, “just a nickname, mm?” She shifts her seating on the wood coffee table, grazing the fingertips of her free hand lightly over the surface. Her gaze stays locked on Azu’s, as focused on her target as the barrel of the pistol. Villanelle watches Azu’s bright eyes, looking for any flickers of recognition of the allusion to their fight. 

Azu picks up the clue immediately, but resolves not to react. Instead, she forces their conversation back on track.

“You and me leave,” she points to the door, “You tell _mi familia_ we go to the…” Azu pauses, unable to recall the English words she needs. “… _departamento de policía, ¿vale?_ And you kill me in your car _o lo que sea. Pero…,”_ she swallows thickly, “… _no quiero que hagas daño a mi familia, por favor”_ Azu’s voice cracks as she finishes. Silence falls over the room like a heavy blanket.

Villanelle isn’t responding, so Azu glances nervously back at her. The assassin’s face is void of emotion as she continues analyzing the werewolf. Finally she pushes out an irritated breath, fingers rapidly tapping on the coffee table before she stands. 

“Fine. C’mon, Jay. Let’s go,” she asserts bemusedly, her exasperation evaporating quickly. Azu stands, taking a deep gulp of air. She lets Villanelle position herself close behind her, the pistol digging into the small of the wolf’s back. Azu knows what’s at stake if she tries anything; a bullet in her back and more in her pack members. 

Luis stands abruptly as the two enter the living room.

“ _¿Adónde vais?_ ” he inquires, shifting from foot to foot.

“ _He habla’o con la señorita Azu y decidí que debemos hablar más en el departamento de policía. Allí tenemos unos hombres sospechosos y quiero que ella trate de identificarlos. Regre-”_ Villanelle is cut off by the gruff voice of Damián, who appears in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“ _Pensé que el atacante fuera una mujer, ¿no?”_ he lilts, crossing his arms. Azu feels the barrel of the pistol dig harder into her back, and she stifles a wince. 

_Ella piensa que la he engañado, ¡mierda!_ Azu scrambles to fix the situation.

“ _Ah, en realidad, creo que fuera un hombre de pelo castaño. Pero todo pasó muy rápido así que no estoy segura…”_ She fidgets under the harsh gaze of Damián and from the pressure of the gun on her back. Azu knows that he’ll inevitably smell her lie and therefore she and Villanelle have a narrow window to leave. The omega doesn’t wait for a reply from Damián or Villanelle; she steps forward towards the front door with haste, and the assassin is compelled to follow her so the gun isn’t revealed. They make it to the door, the alpha following begrudgingly behind the pair. He lets them leave, but he must notice something is off about the encounter.

“ _Llamame cuando llegues al departamento, Ariadna_ ,” he asserts tightly, addressing Azu directly. When she doesn’t respond, he keeps insisting. “ _¿Me oyes? Mírame y asiente._ ”

Azu turns slowly, trying to give Villanelle time to readjust the gun as she moves. She lets some of her nervous energy break through the mask she had carefully constructed since Villanelle had entered her house. Azu flits her gaze up to the alpha’s and swallows, nodding as she speaks. 

“ _Bueno, le llamaré usted cuando llegue. Nos hablamos y vemos, ¿no?”_

Damián nods curtly. He turns on his heel and marches back into the house, closing the door with a snap behind him. Azu and Villanelle turn back around, trekking towards the black Seat Altea that awaits them. It could’ve easily been an unmarked cop car; tinted windows and headlights give it a mysterious yet official air. 

“Ariadna is your name? I’m hurt that you’d lie to me… We were becoming so close, with nicknames and everything,” Villanelle sighs, voice full of emotion. Azu shrugs, feeling the barrel of the gun shift against her back slightly. She knows the assassin likes to put on an act, and she can smell that Villanelle isn’t sincere anyways.

“I have much names. You should keep me live so you can learn all them, hmm?”

Villanelle chuckles, and Azu can feel the pressure of the gun disappear from her back. 

_¿Realmente me está liberando?_ Surprised, the werewolf cranes her neck to look at the assassin. Seeing Azu looking, Villanelle raises an eyebrow, waving the gun at her insistently. She hasn’t pulled the gun away to free her, but as a strategic move. By putting more distance between them, Villanelle has even more of an edge over Azu. If Azu were to attack or run away, she would have more time to react. 

They near the car, Villanelle unlocking it with a key fob. The quick flash of the headlights and quiet honk of the car makes Azu jump slightly. Her heart beats as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, threatening to break out of her chest. Her lupine side prowls anxiously deep within her. She has made it this far on her half-baked plan, and to stumble now would be fatal. 

_Tengo que regular mis acciones para que ocurran al tiempo perfecto._

The pair comes closer and closer to the car, and now Villanelle is giving instructions to Azu. Her words are drowned out by the furious thrum of blood in Azu’s ears. Her breathing picks up, muscles tense, eyes narrow. 

_¡Ahora!_

Azu shoots forward suddenly, sprinting straight for the car. Wolf, blood, adrenaline all roar within her. She flies faster than a bullet, becoming a blur of dull fabric against the backdrop of the misty forest. Azu hears Villanelle cry out indistinctly behind her, swearing in a foreign language. Muted gunshots hiss through the air as Azu reaches the Seat. In one fluid motion, she hops onto the car, rolling over to the other side. Bullets pierce the body of the car with metallic _thunks_ all around her and the back passenger window explodes in a rain of dark crystals. The omega hits the ground on the other side of the car and scrambles unsteadily to her feet. She can hear the rhythmic pounding of Villanelle’s footsteps gaining, accented by more gunshots. She tries to keep up her momentum, but knows she needs more speed to outrun the assassin and her bullets. Especially since, as she had seen when the shots had sunk into the car, the bullets are silver. If she were to be hit by one, it would be game over. Responding to her call, Azu’s wolf side sweeps forward, pushing through to the surface smoothly. Azu’s eyes blaze unnaturally bright and she transforms in a split second. 

Paws to the earth, wind whistling through her fur, and icy eyes capturing every moment with perfect clarity. _Thrum, thrum thrum,_ beat her paws. Sharp staccatos of gunfire and thick silences punctuate her steady rhythm. But soon she is sinking effortlessly into the green sea of trees and shadows. Leaving the assassin, her pack, her inhibitions far behind. The last thing her sensitive ears pick up is the snarl of the Seat as it comes alive. 

_Soy loba pero sigo siendo presa asimismo,_ she huffs. The wolf dismisses the thought quickly, turning her focus onto survival. Azu’s lupine side is more “one-track” and less emotional than her human side. She’s also mischievous, compulsive, and not as… intelligent. 

_El plan de la humana ya se acabó… ahora sólo tenemos que sobrevivir._

As she runs through the forest, her human side rises up to share the light. Her wolf is comfortable leaving their plan simple: survive. But Azu’s other aspect knows that to actually accomplish that while they’re being hunted by Villanelle will be much more complicated. So they talk.

_Sí, se acabó pero tenemos que crear un plan nuevo, loba._

_Bueno, ya tengo uno, ¿sabes? Se llama sobrevivir y tiene una etapa, so-_

_No no no. Venga, tía. Un plan bueno tendría más que una etapa. Y más detalles. Por ejemplo, en este momento necesitamos encontrar un teléfono, dinero, y comida._

_Tienes razón. No ocurre mucho, pero sí tienes razón. Cazaremos, entonces. ¿Está bien?_

_Pues, creo que debamos hacer los dos opciones primero. Si lleguemos a un pueblo bañado en sangre… no sea bien recibido._

_Y por eso… ¿Adonde vamos?_ Azu slows her pace, settling into a steady trot. At the human’s prompting, she takes in her surroundings. Azu’s wolf side, a daughter of _la naturaleza_ , is very geographically adept. 

_Estamos cerca del fondo del Parque, así que podemos ir a Oseja de Sajambre. Si corriéramos, llegáramos en una hora._

_Ajá. Este pueblo está más bien lejos de la casa de la manada. Creo que Villanelle no supiera buscarnos allí._

_¡Dios mío! No procesé que Villanelle sabe nuestro secreto y-_

_Nop. Adio’ humana, yo puedo manejarlo._

And with a hefty mental shove, the lupine aspect is back in control of _la luz_. She’s used to the chaos of emotions that batter the human, and sometimes takes… executive action for the good of both of them. With an hour-long trek facing the twosome, she’ll have plenty of time to work through her problems. The wolf picks up her pace again, whipping through the trees towards their destination. 

An hour flies by quickly, and soon the small town is visible through the trees. Oseja de Sajambre, an obscure village cradled by mountains, home to just over 200 people. A great place to rest, refuel, and pick up supplies. Not to mention the amazing artisanal cheese shop.

Azu slows as she nears the tree line. The human trudges back up to the surface at the wolf’s beckoning. Throughout the trip to _el pueblo_ , Azu had relaxed and mulled over things in her head without worrying about controlling her body. 

_Villanelle,_ she had rationalized, _no va a revelar nada. No puede; es una fantasma. No puede hablar con gente que no van a creerle, ni siquiera puede revelarse porque es asesina. Pero todo esto me ha dejado con más preguntas que antes. Villanelle dijo “_ targets _,” como si ella sea una… sicaria o algo. También siguió repitiendo el nombre “_ Konstantin.” _¿Quien es? Y entonces Damián parecía saber que Villanelle era la atracadora, o por lo menos parecía como si supiera más que decía. ¿Qué realmente está pasando entre yo, una sicaria, y la manada?_

She pauses in her revelations as she comes up to the edge of the forest. In front of her lies a crop field, and then small traditional stone houses beyond it. Even the human side knows that contemplating the intricacies of her situation right now won’t accomplish anything; Azu needs food, shelter, and supplies. Food especially - shifting takes a great deal of energy. As if on cue, _su lado lupino_ urges Azu’s other side to the light. Walking through a village in this form would not be smart, even her wolf understands that. 

Azu’s bones pop, snap, grind as their limits are surpassed. Her fur ripples, becoming shorter and shorter as it’s drawn back into her body. This transformation is slower than normal, almost 5 minutes. For most werewolves, shifts can last anywhere from 10 to 15 minutes depending on energy levels and if they draw on power from their pack. For Azu however, her omega status gives her a special advantage. She can shift instantaneously most of the time, with the time growing longer based on energy levels, pack bonds, or just her own willpower. Sometimes, like now, Azu chooses to prolong her shift, therefore taking less energy. Another bonus is that she retains her clothes and anything she was carrying, like a backpack, when she shifts. That’s undoubtedly the greatest asset of all from being an omega.

She staggers onto her feet as the change is finished, trembling slightly from the aftershocks of the transformation. Her bones, muscles, joints ache with a dull fire. Azu grunts, stretching languorously, revelling in the pain like an athlete would. After a few more cracks and shifts, her body settles into place and she emerges in the field beyond the trees.

Azu quickly locates a path near the edge of the field, picking her way down it towards the town. She has no money, no phone, no ID, and practically no plan. 

_Perfecto para fingir ser una turista estadounidense_ , she laughs to herself. The path joins a wider dirt road, and now Azu starts approaching signs of civilization. The first house, a simple abode made of bricks with a clay tile roof, is quiet. 

_Pues, es la tarde y probablemente están durmiendo o algo._ She walks by softly, taking everything in. The road continues on towards more houses, and Azu follows it in their direction. More fields stretch out to the side of the road, and Azu sees many more gleaming white buildings and sunkissed tiled roofs awaiting her in the crux of Oseja de Sajambre. As she proceeds, the dirt gives way to pavement and bricks. The houses come in bigger sizes and are placed closer together, signs of life beginning to appear. 

Azu jumps as a dog comes bounding up to her, tongue lolling and eyes wide. It’s some kind of terrier, medium sized with a wiry coat of brown and black fur. Azu smiles uncomfortably, petting the dog lightly as it sniffs her. In León dogs are scarce because of the urban environment, so Azu isn’t used to being around canines besides her pack. The dog doesn’t seem aggressive, though; it probably can sense her submissive nature. Azu jumps again as a shrill voice rings out through the street.

“ _¡Luna!”_ it calls, and the dog pricks its ears in response. The dog looks at Azu apologetically before trotting towards the voice. It doesn’t get far before a woman jogs up to meet it, grabbing its collar with a playful smile. After she has the dog secured, she addresses Azu offhandedly, not looking at her.

“ _Tú sabes como es, Paula. ¡A ti te adora, es obvio!”_ She smiles at the dog, then up at Azu. Her eyes widen as she sees the werewolf, but her smile stays strong.

“ _Perdón, pensé que usted era mi vecina. Em, me llamo María. Yo trabajo allá en la quesería.”_ She ruffles the dogs fur lovingly, waiting for a reply. She seems a bit wary of the stranger; in a town so small, everyone knows everyone else. 

“ _Er… soy Emily,”_ Azu replies, speaking slowly and butchering the pronunciation. She makes exaggerated gestures as she talks, eventually conveying that she’s a “vee-ah-gera.” María’s enthusiasm is renewed, and she’s happy to help poor Emily who’s gotten lost while hiking in the National Park. María welcomes Azu into her house, making her a small cup of coffee while they try their best to overcome apparent language barriers.

Azu takes in the house while they talk. A BMW sits out in the driveway, and their wealth shows up in more ways throughout the house. The family seems well off, but not arrogant with their money. Azu takes a liking to María and Luna, especially after María serves her some of the best cheese she’s ever had. She loves that the small family is practically self sufficient, out here in the middle of nowhere. They talk for a while, long enough that Azu notices the sun setting out the window. She can feel that María will ask her to stay, and it’s tempting… the dog, the great food, someone to talk to, but… 

“ _Gracias… para comida. Yo voy un_ hotel _y mah-nana mis amigos…_ uh come _aquí.”_ Azu stands up, gratefully accepting the hug from María. She smiles and nods at the right places as the woman talks, focusing more on the dog. She’d feel worse about it if she wasn’t acting as a tourist who can barely understand Spanish. She scratches once more Luna behind the ears as she leaves, wishing she could take the dog with her. 

_Oye, humana, yo estoy aquí,_ her wolf laughs, drawing a chuckle from Azu as she steps back out into the thick night of the town. She makes her way into the heart of the town slowly, revelling in the freedom and anonymity of the night. Silent streets, silent homes, silent skies. Azu is content to blend in, enjoying her own little piece of freedom and the fresh air. She ambles onto a larger street, finding it to be the “Main Street” of Oseja de Sajambre. More houses and apartments line the street, along with a couple bar / restaurant combos. 

Azu keeps walking, her body beginning to ache from the beating it took from Villanelle. 

_No me di cuenta que todavía estoy herida, probablemente porque en la casa de la manada ni estaba corriendo tanto ni me estaban disparando tanto, jaja._ She smiles at her joke, her spirits still soaring from María and Luna. 

First things first, Azu needs to get money and then she can buy any supplies she needs. Her high spirits and her stomach drop as a chilling realization comes to light.

 _¡Coño! Ahora estoy tirada aquí con un gran total de nada._ She curses herself for not having grabbed anything as she left the pack house. Even if she were to find a bank or an ATM, she has no credit card or anything! Her wolf rises in response to the rapid switch of emotions. 

_¡Oye, cálmate! No es el fin del mundo, ¿vale? Solamente camina. Camina y respira. Pensaremos en algo, no te preocupes tanto. Pero, venga, camina._

Azu growls lowly and pushes forward through the town at a quick pace. Irritation floods like fiery ants through her veins. It makes her itch to run, to attack, to lash out, to _kill_ the godforsaken assassin who has turned her life on its head without breaking a sweat. It’s her primal instincts, human and wolf, converging in a singular desire: _venganza._ It’s not logical, not feasible, not smart at any rate, and yet it consumes her easily. 

_He sido una pasajera en todo esto desde el comienzo. Ahora voy a llevar la batalla a ella._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No me di cuenta que Villanelle…” -I didn’t realize that Villanelle has affected me so much. I have to be more careful.
> 
> “Los ojos de ella son cautivadores. No los mires.” -Her eyes are captivating. Don’t look at them. 
> 
> “departamento de policía, ¿vale? And you kill me in your car o lo que sea. Pero… no quiero que hagas daño a mi familia, por favor” -Police department, okay? (And you kill me in your car) or whatever. But… I don’t want you to hurt my family, please.
> 
> “¿Adónde vais?” -Where are y’all going (informal)
> 
> “He habla’o con la señorita Azu y…” -I have talked with Miss Azu y I decided that we should talk more in the police department. There we have some male suspects and I want her to try and identify them. We will return-
> 
> “Pensé que el atacante fuera una mujer, ¿no?” -I thought the attacker was a woman, no?
> 
> “Ella piensa que la he engañado, ¡mierda!” -She thinks I’ve cheated / tricked her, fuck!
> 
> “Ah, en realidad, creo que fuera…” -Uh, actually I think the attacker was a man with brown hair. But everything happened very fast and therefore I’m not sure…
> 
> “Llamame cuando llegues al departamento, Ariadna… ¿Me oyes? Mírame y asiente.” -Call me when you arrive at the department, Ariadna…. Do you hear me? Look at me and nod. 
> 
> “Bueno, le llamaré usted cuando llegue. Nos hablamos y vemos, ¿no?” -Okay, I will call you (formal) when I arrive. We’ll talk and see each other later, okay?
> 
> “¿Realmente me está liberando?” -Is she really setting me free?
> 
> “Tengo que regular mis acciones para que ocurran al tiempo perfecto.” -I have to time my actions so that they occur at the perfect time.
> 
> “¡Ahora!” -Now!
> 
> “Soy loba pero sigo siendo presa asimismo” -I’m a wolf but I keep being prey as well
> 
> “El plan de la humana ya se acabó… ahora sólo tenemos que sobrevivir.” -The human’s plan has finished… now all we have to do is survive.
> 
> “Sí, se acabó pero tenemos…” to “Y por eso...”:  
> -Yes, it finished but we have to create a new plan, wolf.  
> -Okay, I already have one, did you know that? It’s called to survive and has one step, sur-  
> -No no no. C’mon, dude. A good plan would have more than one step. And more details. For example, right now we need to find a phone, money, and food.  
> -You’re right. It doesn’t happen often, but you’re right. We will hunt then. Is that good?  
> -Well, I think we should do the other two options first. If we arrive in a town bathed in blood… it wouldn’t be received well.  
> -And so… where are we going?
> 
> La naturaleza -nature
> 
> “Estamos cerca del fondo…” to “Nop. Adio’ humana…”  
> -We’re close to the center of the Park, so we could go to (the town called) Oseja de Sajambre. If we were to run, we would arrive in an hour.  
> -Aha. This town is rather far from the pack house. I believe that Villanelle won’t know to look for us there.  
> -Oh my god! I didn’t process that Villanelle knows our secret and-  
> -Nope. Bye human, I got this. 
> 
> La luz - the light
> 
> “Villanelle...no va a revelar…” -Villanelle won’t reveal anything. She can’t; she’s a ghost. She can’t speak with people who aren’t going to believe her, she can’t even reveal herself because she’s an assassin. But all of this has left me with more questions than before. Villanelle said “targets” as if she were… a hitwoman or something. Also she kept repeating the name Konstantin. Who is that? And then Damian appeared to know that Villanelle was the attacker, or at least he seemed like he knew more than he said. What is really happening between me, a hired killer, and the pack?
> 
> “Perfecto para fingir…” -Perfect for pretending to be an American tourist
> 
> “Pues, es la tarde y probablemente…” -Well, it’s the afternoon and they’re probably sleeping or something.
> 
> “Tú sabes como es, Paula…” and “Perdón, pensé que usted…” -You know how she is, Paula. She adores you, it’s obvious! and then Sorry, I thought you were my neighbor. Um, my name is Maria.
> 
> “Er...soy Emily” -Er, I’m Emily.
> 
> “Gracias… para comida. Yo voy un hotel y mah-nana mis amigos… uh come aquí.” -Broken spanish: Thanks… for food. I to go a hotel and too-morrow my friends… uh come here.
> 
> “Oye, humana, yo estoy aquí” -Hey, human, I’m right here
> 
> “No me di cuento que todavía...” -I didn’t realise that I’m still wounded, probably because at the pack house I wasn’t running so much nor was anyone shooting at me so much, haha
> 
> “¡Coño! Ahora estoy tirada aquí con un gran total de nada.” - Fucking hell! Now I’m stranded with a grand total of nothing.
> 
> “¡Oye, cálmate! No es el fin…” -Hey! Calm down! It’s not the end of the world, okay? Just walk. Walk and breathe. We will think of something, don’t worry so much. But, come on, walk.
> 
> Venganza - vengeance / revenge
> 
> “He sido un pasajera…” -I’ve been a passenger in all this since the beginning. Now I’m going to bring the heat to her… literally.


	5. "Loba sin dueño no tiene horario"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans in Oseja de Sajambre feat. a nice old man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Chapter 5 is here finally (Thanks, COVID, for giving me time to write). 
> 
> The title for this one is from Aullando by Wisin y Yandel and Romeo Santos. It means "Wolf without an owner doesn't have a schedule" 
> 
> Translations*** 1/2 (there's a lot again!):
> 
> “24 de Octubre: Feria Ganadera, exposiciones, artesanía y gastronomía. Muestra de Queso de Beyos” -October 24th: livestock festival, exhibitions, craftwork and gastronomy. Showing of cheese of Los Beyos. 
> 
> “Buenos días Señor…” to “Claro”  
> Azu: Good morning sir. I would like a glass of water if you wouldn’t mind.  
> Julio: Of course, miss.  
> J: Where are you going today?  
> A: Well, I don’t know now. I saw the poster outside… It said that there’s a festival on the 24th, right? I would love to go, but I don’t remember what day is today… I’ve been in the wilderness for so long, if you understand.  
> J: Yes, tomorrow is saturday, the 24th. It seems like you arrived just in time, huh?  
> A: Clearly
> 
> Debo llamar a Jess… - I should call Jess. She was able to help me before with my abusive pack, and maybe she can help me with a murderer or stalker. She works with MI6, so she should have the tools for that. I can do it today and then tomorrow I’ll go to the party to get supplies.
> 
> “Llamame cuando llegues al departamento, Ariadna. ¿Me oyes? Mírame y asiente.” -Call me when you arrive at the department, Ariadna. Do you hear me? Look at me and nod. 
> 
> “¿Bueno?” to “Perdóneme señor…”:  
> Voice: Hello?  
> A: It’s me, Azu, Damián asked that I call  
> D: Ariadna, finally you call me  
> A: Forgive me, sir. It’s only that they didn’t permit me to call before right now. I called you in the same moment I could. 
> 
> Tengo que darle… - I have to give him the name of a police department where he can pick me up. I hope he can’t track where I am. 
> 
> “Me dijeron que…” - They told me that you guys can pick me up in a few hours. They’re asking me to give them a description of the attacker. I’m at the department called… 
> 
> “Estoy en la Policía Municipal…” I’m at the Municipal Police Station in León. Its address is Paseo el Parque, 0, 24005 in León.
> 
> Debe funcionar… sólo… - It should work… it’s only one hour from the pack house, and it makes sense that it’s in Leon because my apartment is located there and it’s where the attack took place. 
> 
> “Iré ahorita. Les di…” - I will come right now. Tell them that I will arrive in one hour, do you understand? I won’t wait, Ari. Stay there. Don’t move one fucking step. 
> 
> “Sí sí no me moveré...” - Yes, yes I won’t move from here, I swear it to you. We’ll see each other soon. 
> 
> Ojalá que me crean - I hope they believe me
> 
> “No puedo entenderles cuando están hablando así.” - I can’t understand you guys when you’re talking like that.
> 
> “¿persiguiendo? ¿cazando?” - Pursuing? Hunting? 
> 
> Por lo menos, puedo entender inglés muy bien - At the very least, I can understand English very well
> 
> ¿Son de MI6 o de… - Are they from MI6 or a Photoshop class for kids? 
> 
> Parece tan joven - She seems so young
> 
> Pues, cuando alguien tiene… -Well, when someone has to deal with Villanelle every day as their job, I can understand that they would be irritated if I ask them questions like she does. 
> 
> Llega a cinco personas escuchando - Now 5 people are listening
> 
> “Perdón… casi terminado.” - Sorry, almost done
> 
> Tendré que decirle una excusa… - I will have to tell him a great excuse to explain why I wasted so much battery and data on his phone. I can say that…
> 
> Ojalá que, si ellos hayan… - I hope that, if they’ve been pursuing the same attacker that has been hunting me, my story won’t sound so odd. They have to realize that we’re talking about the same person and that I’m not lying. No-one could make up a story like this without actually living it.

_“24 de Octubre: Feria Ganadera, exposiciones, artesanía y gastronomía. Muestra de Queso de Beyos,”_ Azu reads aloud from a sign on the side of Hostal Les Bedules, one of the local hotels with a full restaurant and bar. The festival would be a great place to acquire money, free food, or sneak into shops while everyone's out partying. 

_Perfecto,_ she thinks, and her wolf agrees. 

After a long run last night, Azu’s head had cleared. The fire engulfing her had condensed into a singular white-hot coal that settled in the pit of her stomach. The coal, the drive for revenge, was hot enough to fuel her planning for revenge but contained enough so as not to set her emotions ablaze again. Eventually her route took her back to the first house she had seen as she entered town. It was still empty after further inspection, so Azu curled up in the hay and slept. When the new day had dawned, she walked back through town. Despite her conviction to wreak havoc on Villanelle, she still needs money and supplies to jumpstart her plan. Not to mention medicine; the dull aching of her wounds has only gotten stronger. 

Azu contemplates how specifically to exact revenge on Villanelle as she wanders into Hostal Les Bedules. At the moment, she decides to get a glass of water and figure out the date. The hotel is small and slightly cramped, and the smell of food and drink gets thicker as Azu wades past each table. There are a few patrons eating breakfast and she has to physically pull herself and her gaze away from their plates. 

By the time she reaches the counter, Azu is practically drooling. She clears her throat, drawing the attention of the barkeep (or owner? She doesn’t know). 

_“Buenos días Señor. Ah, quisiera un vaso de agua si no le importa,”_ she requests, giving him a polite smile.

 _“Por supuesto, señorita,”_ he responds, continuing to clean up the bar as he fulfills her request.

 _“¿Adónde va hoy?”_ he calls back over his shoulder. Azu realizes that, once again, she’s been mistaken for a hiker. She doesn’t mind; it actually works in her favor.

 _“Pues, ahora no sé,”_ she laughs with more enthusiasm than she feels, _“Vi el póster afuera… Dijo que hay un festival en el 24, ¿no? Me encantaría ir, pero no me recuerdo qué día es hoy… he estado en la naturaleza por tanto tiempo, si me entiende,”_ she trills. The barkeep laughs along with her, a low rumbling laugh that reminds her of her own grumbling stomach. 

“ _Sí, mañana es sábado, el 24. Parece que llegó justo en tiempo, ¿no?”_ he replies, bringing over the glass of water to Azu before returning to shuffling around the kitchen. 

“ _Claro,”_ she responds, spirits lifting once again. But she keeps them in check, not letting herself get too cocky. The higher her spirits rise, the harder they can come crashing down, just like the night before. Jay nurses her glass of water as a to-do list formulates in her head.

_Debo llamar a Jess. Podía ayudarme antes con mi manada abusiva, y quizás pueda ayudar con una asesina o acosadora. Trabaja con MI6, debe tener las herramientas para esto. Puedo hacerlo hoy y entonces, mañana, iré a la fiesta para conseguir suministros._

Satisfied, she talks her way into borrowing the bartender’s phone. She walks outside for privacy, not wanting some innocent patrons to listen in on a phone call between a werewolf and MI6. It’s as she’s dialing the number when she remembers Damián’s words. 

_Llamame cuando llegues al departamento, Ariadna. ¿Me oyes? Mírame y asiente._

And she had nodded, and Damián had been satisfied. She dials up the pack house’s number, hands shaking slightly. Ghosts of past fears and spirits of the anguish and pain of abuse flood her, strengthened by her recent stay at the house. 

“¿ _Bueno?”_ The voice is distant and slightly grainy, a tribute to her location in the small town and the pack’s location deep within the wilderness. Azu can’t tell who’s speaking, though she doubts Damián himself would answer an unknown phone number. 

“ _Soy Azu, Damián me pidió que llame,”_ she responds, pacing anxiously on the sidewalk. Silence follows, and Azu checks to make sure she didn’t accidentally hang up. Finally it’s Damián’s voice that emanates from the tinny speaker.

“ _Ariadna,”_ comes his voice, unusually muffled and high-pitched, “ _por fin me llamas.”_

Azu bites her lip, debating on how to reply. There was no way for a ride to the police station to take a whole day. However, there was a slim chance he’d be able to tell she was lying over the phone.

“ _Perdóneme, señor. Solo es que ellos no me permitían llamar antes que ahorita. Le llamé en el mismo momento que pude.”_ Even to her her excuse sounded weak, but there was no way for her to prove otherwise. The next part, however, was crucial. 

_Tengo que darle un nombre de un departamento de policía donde él me puede recoger. Ojalá que no pueda monitorizar donde estoy._

“ _Me dijeron que ustedes me pueden recoger en unas horas. Están pidiendo que yo les dé una descripción del atacante. Estoy en el departamento que se llama…”_ Azu pauses, acting as if one of the officers is supplying her with an address and name. In reality, she racks her brain desperately for a station that is far enough away to necessitate a time-consuming drive but not too far away as to be absurd. 

_“Estoy en la Policía Municipal de León. Su dirección es… Paseo el Parque, 0, 24005 en León.”_ Azu explains, fidgeting as she waits for a reply. 

_Debe funcionar… sólo está una hora de la casa de la manada, y tiene sentido que está en León porque mi apartamento está ubicado allí y es donde tuvo lugar el ataque._

_“Iré ahorita. Les di que llegaré en una hora, ¿me entiendes? No esperaré, Ari. Quédate allí. Que ni te mueves un_ puto _paso.”_ Damián growls lowly.

 _“Sí sí no me moveré de aquí, se lo juro. Nos vemos pronto,”_ she finishes hurriedly, letting a tremor creep into her voice. With a trembling sigh she hangs up, palms sweaty and a knot sitting painfully in her stomach. Then she remembers she should call Jess before the bartender gets suspicious. Taking a couple deep breaths, she dials up the number of her contact at MI6. 

“Hello?” comes the voice at the other end after five long rings. Azu smiles at her accent; she’d always thought British accents were absurdly proper. 

“Jess?” Azu questions, knowing from her voice that it’s her.

“Yeah, look, I’m at work trying to catch a bloody psychopath, alright? I’m not in the mood to be hassled by some telemarketer-” 

Azu allows herself another small grin at the other woman’s ferocity, especially as she can make out voices of her co-workers commenting in the background. 

“Jess, it is Azu,” she cuts in before the agent can hang up, “I need help.”

“Oh, Azu! Sorry, I thought you were a bloody telemarketer, with your accent an’ all. What’s wrong?” Azu hears the tone of her co-workers in the background shift to concerned before they fall silent. 

“ _Alguien_ \- Someone attack me _en mi_ apartment, try to kill me-”

“Was it your family? There are safety precautions we can take-”

“No no, a stranger, a _rusa_ … a Russian, ¿ _no_? A Russian girl…” Azu proceeds to explain everything from how she met the girl at one of her groups and the night of the attack to running away in the forest. She leaves out a few key facts of course, like that she’s a werewolf. Silence meets her as she finishes, and her pulse pounds with anxiety.

 _Ojalá que me crean,_ she prays. It is an absurd story, but hadn’t Jess mentioned something about a psychopath they were hunting when she first picked up? It couldn’t sound too crazy to them. A sudden beep makes Azu jump, and she checks to make sure they didn’t hang up on her. They haven’t. 

“What was her name, the attacker’s name…,” a woman with an American accent asks.

“Azu,” Jess supplies, and the werewolf realizes she’s been put on speaker phone. 

“...Azu?” the American woman finishes, her tone belying a strange excitement and conviction. 

“ _Em_ , she tell me her name is Emilia, _pero_ her real name is Villanelle,” she stutters. She can feel her temper rising as she has to rely on her inadequate skill in English to communicate everything. As it is, she garbles the Russian’s name so it sounds like “Veeyanell.”

“Bloody ‘ell!” exclaims a British man, evidently named Hugo as Jess chastises him seconds later. Azu holds back a growl, taking a deep breath as she listens to the group talk. With everyone conversing at once, she can’t make anything out. 

“So?” she finally cuts in, fed up, “ _No puedo entenderles cuando están hablando así.”_

“Hugo, why don’t you put that secret Oxford degree you have to good use for once, huh?”

“I didn’t get a degree in _Spanish_ at Oxford, Jess, are you-”

“Well you had to have taken some sort of language at a school like that, right?” a new voice asks, another British guy. Silence ensues, and finally Hugo speaks again. 

“Ah, Villanelle _es la persona… que… estamos,_ ah…”

“¿ _persiguiendo? ¿cazando?”_ Azu interrupts impatiently, finding that it was almost more irritating to hear Hugo attempt to speak Spanish than to stumble through speaking English on her own. 

“Uh, sure,” he mumbles, obviously lost. Azu closes her eyes and pushes out a breath, fighting back the desire to throw the phone into the street. 

“You ask,” she grits out, “I answer, Hugo translate when I don’t have the words.”

“Can you describe her better,” the American woman asks, “what she was wearing, what she looked like…”

“She had, em, hair fake… _como una peluca_ and had very good fashion _y_ clothes when she attack me. Later, when she come as _policía_ , she have hair _como miel_ , _como_ honey. _Y_ she talk with lot of different… _em, acentos_.

“Accents, I think,” Hugo supplies.

“How did she attack you?” Eve probes, her voice holding the quiet yet reflective tones of someone deep in their own brain.

“A knife in my stomach, punch my face with her hand wrapping with a belt of silver,” Jay responds, the words flowing easier as she gets accustomed to the foreign tongue. Still, she apparently hasn’t been devoting enough time to learning English as she’d thought and cringes at how illiterate she sounds in the language.

 _Por lo menos, puedo_ entender _inglés muy bien,_ she thinks gratefully.

“Azu,” the American woman continues, voice hesitant yet firm, “if I were to send you a couple pictures of potential suspects, could you see if any of them are your attacker?” Azu wrestles with the question for a while before understanding its meaning. It wouldn’t be smart to send pictures of murder suspects to a stranger’s phone, but it seems important that MI6 knows who’s hunting her. That is the only way to attack her back.

“Yes,” Azu replies simply, mind racing ahead of her mouth, as she suspects the American woman’s is too. A second chirp from the phone makes her jump and she looks at the photos they’d sent her. The first one is practically a Stock photo, with a brunette woman plastered against a plain white background.

¿ _Son de MI6 o de una clase de Photoshop para niños?_ Azu scoffs, thumbing past the first picture quickly. The second one at least looks like an official mugshot, but it definitely isn’t Villanelle. In it a stocky older woman stands glaring at the camera, and Azu gives her a mock glare in return. She swipes to the next photo and pauses. It’s a young woman, hair swept back by a plain gray bandana that matches her jumpsuit. Wisps of golden hair fall around her face, framing her hazel eyes. It’s the eyes that send a sudden jolt through Azu, the same eyes that had captivated her in León and at the pack house. 

_Parece tan joven_ , Azu muses as her trembling fingers graze over the assassin’s lips, eyes, and hair. The illusion is broken as the screen shifts to a new image at her touch. But the picture stays seared in her brain, those daunting eyes still staring into her own.

She calls Jess’s number back after a brief glance at the other suspects, which confirms what she already knows: picture #3 is Villanelle. 

“Azu? Did you recognize any of the suspects?” the American woman questions as soon as she picks up.

“Yes, _pero_ first, I want to ask what your name?” 

“Is that really im-” the woman starts, then is interrupted by her colleagues in the background. 

“Eve Polastri,” she finally grits, before continuing with barely suppressed irritation, “now, which one did you recognize?”

 _Pues, cuando alguien tiene que lidiar con Villanelle todos los días como su trabajo, entiendo que estaría irritada si le pregunto cosas así como hace ella_ , Azu sympathizes.

“Yes, _perdóneme,_ three is her, Villanelle.” On the other side of the phone, someone sucks in a breath. It’s the only sign of affirmation given; Eve forges on immediately.

“And how would you know her name?”

Memories of the fight flit through Azu’s vision like dark shadows. She sees Villanelle transform from the vulnerable, helpless girl Emilia into a beautifully demonic predator. Azu watches the fight play out before her inner eye, ghosts of the frenzied flashes of the TV in her apartment causing her to flinch from their strength. She feels her bruised and battered body roll off the shattered coffee table once more, rising to stand shakily in front of her tormentor. 

_“_ Villanelle _,”_ she had offered, along with an outstretched hand that spanned the immeasurable distance between them. 

“Azu?” Eve queries, and the werewolf jolts back to the present.

“S-sorry, _em_ , I should tell all the attack and _entonces_ you will know. Is okay?”

“Yes, please, go ahead,” she says, but there is commotion in the background on the other side of the call. Azu hears a door open and close, and can tell another person is listening. 

_Llega a cinco personas escuchando,_ Azu frets. She’s outnumbered and feels as though she’s being interrogated by this _Eve_. She goes on to painstakingly detail the fight at her apartment until she decides to backtrack to how she met “Emilia” in the first place. Her recounting is warped and confusing, not only because of the language barrier and non-linear timeline, but also because Azu has to hide the key fact that she’s not human. It makes explaining how she escaped Villanelle twice as hard, and by the end of her retelling Azu is hoping there’s no plot holes. She lets silence reign, waiting for the MI6 agents to respond. As she does, she peeks back into Hostal Les Bedules, waving her free arm to catch the attention of the barkeeper. 

“ _Perdón,”_ she mouths, _“casi terminado.”_ He nods, smiling, waving his hand as though she could be on the call for the rest of the day and he wouldn’t care. Which might be true, patrons had been streaming past Azu and into the restaurant area as she was on the call, more than enough to keep him busy. Azu thanks him with a charming smile, with a hint of embarrassment thrown in for good measure. 

_Tendré que decirle una excusa muy buena para explicar porque gasté tanto batería y datos de celular_ _de su movíl. Puedo decir que…_

“Well, that’s a lot to process,” Eve suddenly says, and Azu’s brain scrambles to translate. She understands, or thinks she does, what the agent is trying to say: they still can’t trust her completely.

_Ojalá que, si ellos hayan estado persiguiendo la misma agresora que me ha estado cazando, mi cuento no suene tan extraño. Tienen que darse cuenta de que estamos hablando de la misma persona y que no estoy mintiendo. Nadie puede construir un cuento así sin vivirlo en verdad._

“I understand, Ms. Polastri,” Azu adds, turning away from the window of Hostal Les Bedules and back towards the street, “but I ask you a question…” Azu pauses, trying to get what she wants to say into English as elegantly as she can. Which, needless to say, is as sophisticated as a toddler. 

“Villanelle,” she begins, faltering slightly, “is… has lot of experience. She know everything I did before I did it. My question is, how many _pers-_ victims have you had to ask this? How would I… create this… story? Of my own mind? _Imposible_ , _Señora.”_ She hears someone sigh in the background, probably Eve, before silence again.

 _Ellos me tienen que estar poniendo en silencio otra vez,_ Azu huffs. She paces in front of the restaurant windows as she waits. Her anxiety has faded from her call with Damián, being replaced with a focused seriousness that the call, especially in a foriegn language, necessitates. As she treads a careful track on the sidewalk, her stomach growls loudly. 

_No he comido desde…,_ she pauses, thinking. _...ayer a la tarde._ With a heavy sigh, she resolves to wait at least until the call is over so she can either hunt or steal something to eat. Focusing her attention back on the conversation, she calls out exasperatedly,

“ _Hello?_ If you MI6 agents can not make a plan, I will.” She needs to get the agents here, as much as for protection as to help hunt down the wily assassin.

_Afortunadamente, suena como que ellos ya la están cazando, y solo necesito convencerles que yo no estoy mintiendo._

“You’re from León… we’ll fly into León Airport, you can meet us there. We’ll leave-”

“No!” Azu interrupts, then repeats softer, “no, León no. Villanelle attack me in León. _¿Aeródromo de la Morgal?_ The airport in Oviedo. Is more north than in León, less time to fly. We can meet at a bar there, with people, safety.” She swallows thickly, waiting for an answer. She’s sure that the agents on the other side would not appreciate her aggressiveness. 

_Sin embargo no es mi culpa, ¡yo no quiero estar asesinada!_

Then something occurs to Azu, evidence she can give them that would help prove her case. 

“I can show you,” she says into the silence, “I can show you the wounds, the stab and the punches.” She waits for an answer. Again, they were eerily silent, no hint that she was speaking to anyone, not to mention five people. And again, Azu checks to make sure that they hadn’t hung up, which they hadn’t. Her wolf growls at the silly piece of plastic and glass to reassure the human, to show her not to be afraid.

“That will be fine, Ms. DeCares,” a new woman says firmly. Azu blinks; she didn’t tell them her last name... or that she’s from León, now that she thinks about it.

 _Supongo que probablemente Jess les dijera,_ she thinks, but it doesn’t still her unease. 

“I apologize for the wait… I can assure you that it is through no fault of your own. We will be at the airport in the early afternoon on Sunday. Eve will send you more details on your arrival. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, if you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to call us again.” There’s a _snick_ as the line cuts out and Azu stands staring at the phone, mouth agape. Her brow furrows, and she snaps her jaw shut. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.

 _O los dos,_ chimes in her wolf bemusedly. 

_Claro que estoy aliviada, pero… ¿Piensas que esa mujer, la que habló la última vez, es la jefa? ¿Y que quería decir ella cuando mencionó que “nosotros” van a estar en al aeropuerto?_

_Hay muchas preguntas. Pero todavía confías en ellos… o por lo menos más que confiarías en alguien diferente, ¿no? Entiende que los agentes sí tienen deudas también, y serían más locos si no las tienen._

_Sí, he estado pensando la misma cosa._ Azu sighs as she walks back through the doors of Hostal Les Bedules. _Aun así, yo sí tengo deudas y ellos necesitan darse cuenta de eso._

She weaves her way through the tables, smiling politely at the patrons that catch her eye. A hostess, who had apparently arrived while Azu was outside, hurries over. 

_“Hola Señorita, ¿puedo agarrarla una mesa?”_ she chirps, a smile splayed across her face with ease and a stack of menus clutched tight to her chest. Azu blinks at her, then remembers to smile and responds quickly.

 _“Ah, no, pero muchas gracias. Me prestó este movíl el dueño y solo quiero devolverlo,”_ Azu clears her throat, _“Pero gracias otra vez y, em, adio’.”_

The wolf laughs at her, a deep throaty sound, _Estás como un pez fuera del agua._

 _Cállate,_ Azu thinks back irritatedly. She gives the hostess another grateful smile and sidles past her towards the bar. Seeing the owner now has more patrons as the day nears its middle, the werewolf slips onto a stool to wait. She fiddles with the phone, checking the time.

 _11:04a.m._ it reads. Azu lets out a huff as she kicks her legs against the solid wood of the bar. It would be a long wait for the following morning to get food from the festival. She focuses her glower on a stubborn stain in the wood before her, mulling over her options. 

_No quiero cazar cuando están tantos granjeros por aquí. Pero tampoco no quiero convertirme en mendiga para unas sobras._

A tattered cloth sweeps across the werewolf’s vision as the barkeep scrubs the blemish with vigor.

“ _Demasiado indignación para una mancha… no vale la pena,”_ the deep boom of his voice reverberates in Azu’s ears, drowning out the thrum of the patron’s conversations. Azu huffs out a laugh, fidgeting in her seat. 

“ _Tengo su móvil aquí en mi bolsillo,”_ Azu says swiftly, pulling the phone out, _“y quisiera darle mis disculpas por haber pasado tanto tiempo hablando con mis amigos.”_

“ _Ah, no le preocupe señorita. ¿Ellos van a llegar aquí pronto? Sé que probablemente tenga usted un plan para adonde va a ir hoy, pero pienso que ustedes les encantaría la feria mañana,”_ he replies, pocketing the phone and continuing to work as he talks. 

“ _Oh por supuesto estaré aquí para la feria. Voy a quedarme aquí para la noche y ganadera y entonces salir a reunir con mis compañeros en Oviedo mañana en la tarde.”_

 _“¡Oviedo! Guau, es un camino muy largo,”_ he laughs another time, and Azu cherishes the bassy timbre of it.

“ _No, no voy a caminar jaja,”_ Azu rejoins, “ _Espero encontrar un autobús y, pues, algo de dinero porque mis amigos todavía tienen mi billetera.”_ She looks up at the bartender through her eyelashes. She feels slightly guilty for basically begging him for money, but she’d realized that her main goal should be to save the money she steals tomorrow for medicine. Without the aid of the pack, she realizes that her wounds are graver than she previously thought. With the party she’d hopefully be able to sate her appetite and quench her thirst easily, though obtaining medicine and supplies would be harder. 

Azu jumps as the man’s hand suddenly clasps hers. He catches her gaze, offering her his own filled with a warm generosity common in grandfathers. He smiles slowly and gently, the wrinkles on his face settling into place. 

_Es alguien que parece sonreír mucho,_ Azu notes, thankful for being lucky enough to ask this nice of a man for money. 

“ _No se preocupe de dinero, Señorita. Ni tampoco de un techo. Puede descansar aquí sin dudas esta noche.”_

Azu gushes with relief and excitement, jumping up and bounding behind the bar to give him a big hug.

“ _Ay gracias, muchas gracias Señor. Par-... Parece usted como mi abuelo difunto,”_ she murmurs softly, stepping back out of the hug slowly. His warm, smooth thumb comes up to wipe the beginnings of tears welling in her eyes.

“ _Ay, chica. No me tiene que tratar de usted. Puede llamarme Julio,”_ he smiles again, settling one large hand on the small of her back, “ _Vamos, le mostraré su cuarto.”_

Azu nods humbly, mumbling her thanks and permission for him to treat her like a friend too. 

She spends the rest of the night in her small hotel room, making calls to local businesses and the bus station to plan out her day tomorrow. She reemerges in the restaurant at Julio’s beckoning for a hot, home-cooked dinner. Her first real, substantial meal since the small one of coffee, cheese, and appetizers in María’s house. After the two of them eat, Julio’s lady friend Alicia arrives and Azu understands it’s time to leave them alone. She shakes her head at the man, happy for him and amazed at the duality of his kind heart and flirtatious manner. Azu resolves to slip back into the hotel and leave some money for Julio tomorrow; and with that, she heads to bed. 

Azu awakes to the incessant noise of animals. So many animals. Cows, horses, sheep, goats. And in the background, the chatter of citizens praising and haggling over the animals. 

_¡La fería ha empezado!_ Azu thinks, excitement and anticipation cutting through her initial irritation at being woken. 

Azu jumps as the door to her small room opens. She stumbles to her feet gracelessly, her wounds smarting at the motion. But it’s just Julio, thankfully. 

“ _Buenos días Julio,”_ Azu says, smiling through the pain at the man standing in the doorway.

 _“Buenos días señorita Azuleja,”_ he replies, smiling that same sweet, grandfatherly smile. He holds out his cellphone, nodding at it with his head as he speaks.

“ _Creo que tu gerente o algo estaba llamando. No dijo su nombre, pero sonó urgente.”_

Azu stands rooted to the spot, eyes staring at a spot miles away. She flinches as Julio reaches out to hand the phone to her, but comes back to herself enough to answer. 

“ _Sí, sí, gracias amigo. Probablemente es mi gerente, debo devolver la llamada,”_ she mumbles, taking the phone with shaky hands, _“Gracias por decirme,”_ she finishes, giving him a weak smile. Julio gives a small smile back and is about to leave when he says,

 _“Ah, perdóname si te desperté,”_ he trails off, looking a bit embarrassed, _“Estaré trabajando un rato más, puedes devolver el móvil cuando sea. ¡Nos vemos luego!”_

Azu smiles, reassuring him that the intrusion was welcome, and closes the door behind his retreating form. 

_Joder._

She takes a deep breath, staring at the phone screen until it’s image is seared into her vision. Then she realizes something; it wasn’t necessarily Damián who had called. She had called the MI6 agents from the same phone, it could easily be them who Julio had mistaken for her boss. 

First she checks if the caller had left a message. Which, they didn’t, of course. Neither Damián nor MI6 would waste time with something so frivolous, they’d just expect her to answer. And they’d most certainly expect a call back. Azu sighs deeply, moving to sit on the bed. Both of her options are unsatisfactory. Calling Damián would mean considerable effort given to keep up her lie, which may not even be possible now. Calling MI6 would be fine, but it would mean that Damián _didn’t_ call, signaling he saw through her thin lie and would now be hunting her too. 

_Perfecto. Es inevitable que dos psicópatas me persiguen ahora._

She tosses the phone onto her bed, moving into the bathroom to freshen up, fret over her lack of clean clothes, and think over her options. After she’s done, she grabs the phone and one of the extra pillowcases from the closet, folding it into a neat square and stuffing it into her waistband. She slips out of the room, loitering in the hallway, still undecided. She checks the number who had called again, but it is only labeled as _desconocido_ with an unrecognizable number floating below it. 

_Puedo llamar esta persona después de agarrar todas las cosas que necesito de la fiesta. Entonces llamaré y no podrá monitorizarme la ubicación porque estaré saliendo en un bus poco después._

Azu treads lightly down the stairs, favoring her injured side and gripping the railing for support so hard that it creaks. She’s nearing the bottom of the stairs when a buzzing noise makes her jump and stumble down the last two steps, grimacing in pain as her side stretches. Her gaze flits around the small alcove at the bottom of the stairwell; nothing that could trigger any alarm. 

_Oh. Soy boba._

With a disgruntled shake of her head, Azu snatches the vibrating phone from her back pocket. The caller ID still lists _desconocido_ but the number is different from the one before. Azu bites her lip, debating on if she should pick up. 

_Por lo menos puedo fingir que ha llamado el número de teléfono incorrecto._

She presses _acepta_ and holds the phone to her ear gingerly. She waits for a beat, and nobody speaks.

“ _¿Bueno?”_ Azu ventures, holding her breath as she waits for the voice to reply. 

“ _Señorita Azuleja,”_ the voice on the other side drawls. A woman’s voice. Azu pauses. The voice waits patiently and Azu can practically hear her lips twisting into a smug smile.

“ _Pienso que tiene el número incorrecto, perdoneme,”_ she answers abruptly, trying to hold an aloof tone. When she hears the other woman beginning to reply, she yanks the phone away from her ear and slams the red “end call” button… though not before her sensitive ears pick up the last words of the assassin:

“ _Nos vemos pronto, pajarita.”_

The pharmacy appears closed, windows tightly shuttered and the green blinking sign turned off, but when Azu turns the handle the door swings open easily. A cool current wafts from inside, and when Azu steps inside it is noticeably colder - and darker - than outside. A few dim fluorescent strips attempt to ward off the shadows, but they pool in the corners and along the floor. Azu’s eyes shine with her wolf’s presence, alleviating some of the darkness and allowing Azu to peruse the shelves with ease. 

From her years living among fiery, belligerent werewolves, she knew which medicines would work for her wounds. She was the “pack doctor” for a while because of her submissive nature; dominant wolves accepted treatment easier if the wolf caring for them was benevolent. Azu grabs antibiotics, pain pills, antiseptic, bandages, and a package of gauze pads. She stuffs them quickly into her bulky pillowcase, which is already full with other supplies. 

Satisfied, Azu decides to swing by the register on the way out. She’s still determined to leave some money and a kind note for Julio. So it was back to Hostal Les Bedules to leave the money, onto the local bus station to Arriondas, and then a train ride… 

Azu is so lost in her meticulous planning that the voice seems to emanate from the walls themselves. 

“ _Señorita,”_ the thin voice calls, “ _Ojalá que no vayas a salir sin pagando.”_

Azu starts, whipping around and finding the source of the voice to be a rangy, pale, bird-like man enrobed in a white lab coat that looks three sizes too large. She stares at him, at a loss for words, her bright blue eyes locked with his watery gray ones. 

“ _ Es tan oscuro aquí dentro,”  _ Azu breathes, not moving. She doesn’t know if she meant it as a threat or not, only that there is something weird about this man that she can’t place.

“ _ Yo sé _ ,” he replies simply, his thin lips curling up into a small smile, “ _ casi tenebroso, ¿no?”  _ Azu blinks.  _ That  _ sounded like a threat. She knows she should leave, dash out the door before the man has the wits to turn on the lights and get a good look at her face. Azu can feel her adrenaline pumping, her wolf banging against her mental walls and howling for her to  _ move _ but the watery grayness of the man’s eyes pervades her senses, making her feel as though she’s slowly drifting underwater towards their murky bottoms. 

The man moves to come around to the front of the counter. His movements are slow yet fluid, revealing a deeper power within his body than his frame belies. It’s obviously the body of an experienced hunter, and yet Azu remains as frozen as a stone statue. It’s the lights that finally save her. As the man draws nearer, one of them flickers just above Azu, drawing his gaze for a split second. It is enough for Azu to emerge from the obscure haze his eyes had cast on her, and she darts towards the exit, plowing into the door and stumbling onto the street where she recovers and sprints towards the hotel. 

She enters the hotel, the formerly boisterous restaurant silent since everyone is out at the festival. She decides to leave Julio a wedge of the pricey cheese she got from the display of _Quesos de Beyos,_ one of the most popular attractions. Azu also scrawls him a quick note before emerging back on the streets and weaving her way towards the bus station. As she walks, she can still feel the man’s vapid eyes meeting her own, can still feel how they felt so empty, how they drew her into the emptiness and kept her trapped there. Azu shudders, picking up her pace, but her wolf brings the memory back again. 

_¿Te diste cuenta de que él tenía el mismo olor que tiene la demonia?_ her wolf asks.

 _¿La demonia?_ Azu counters, drawing a blank on who her wolf is referring to.

_Ella, la persona quien se llama Villanelle, la rusa._

_Oh. Si es cierto, no veo nada conexión entre ellos. Pues, a excepción de que los dos son predadores. Pero todas en nuestra manada son predadores también y no tienen esto olor._ Azu muses, working through her thoughts. She feels her wolf recede, curling up into a corner of her mind to work on the issue while her human acts as the pilot. 

Azu is frantic. The call from Villanelle had been a sobering wake-up; while she’s been in Oseja de Sajambre enjoying the festival and making friends, Villanelle has been working non-stop to hunt down her target. Of course it would only be a matter of time before she would trace her calls to MI6 or something like that. So Azu hurries through town towards the bus station, going off of a route Julio had given her. 

She pays for her ticket in cash and slips into the bathroom to clean her wound and bandage it. When she boards the bus she’s the first one on, so she settles into a seat in the back corner. As more passengers begin to arrive, Azu pops a few antibiotic and pain pills, curls up to the window, and slips into a light doze.

_Una hora y media de paz y descanso y estaré en Arriondas para otra viaje y descanso de tres horas. Alegría pura…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations 2/2: 
> 
> Ellos me tienen que estar poniendo en silencio otra vez - They have to be putting me on mute again
> 
> No he comido desde… ayer a la tarde - I haven’t eaten since… yesterday afternoon
> 
> Afortunadamente, suena como… - Fortunately, it sounds like they’re already hunting her, and I only need to convince them that I’m not lying. 
> 
> Sin embargo no… - Nevertheless, it’s not my fault. I don’t want to be murdered!
> 
> Supongo que probablemente Jess les dijera… - I suppose that Jess probably told them
> 
> O los dos - Or both
> 
> Claro que estoy… to Sí he estado pensando… Aun así… :  
> Human: Clearly I’m relieved, but… do you think that woman, the one who spoke last, is the boss? And what did she mean when she said “we” will be at the airport?  
> Wolf: There are a lot of questions. But you still trust in them… or at least more than you would trust in someone different, right? Understand that the agents also have doubts, and would be even crazier if they didn’t have them.  
> Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. Even so, I do have doubts and they need to realize that. 
> 
> “Hola Señorita, ¿puedo agarrarla una mesa?” - Hi miss, can I grab you a table? 
> 
> “Ah, no, pero muchas…” - Um, no, but thank you very much. The owner lent me this phone and I only want to return it. But thanks again and, um, bye.
> 
> Estás como un pez fuera del agua. - You’re like a fish out of water
> 
> Cállate - Shut up
> 
> No quiero cazar cuando están… - I don’t want to hunt when there’s so many farms around here. But I also don’t want to become a beggar for a few scraps. 
> 
> “Demasiado indignación…” to “No, no voy a caminar… Espero encontrar…”:  
> Julio: Too much outrage for a stain… it’s not worth it.  
> Azu: I have your phone here in my pocket, and I wanted to give you my apologies for having spent so much time talking to my friends.  
> J: Oh, don’t worry, miss. Are they going to arrive soon? I know that you probably have a plan for where you’re going today, but I think you guys would love the festival tomorrow.  
> A: Oh of course I’ll be here for the festival. I’m going to stay here for the night and then leave to meet up with my companions in Oviedo tomorrow in the afternoon.  
> J: Oviedo! Wow, that’s a very long walk.  
> A: No, no I’m not going to walk haha. I hope to find a bus and, well, some money because my friends still have my wallet. 
> 
> Es alguien que parece sonreír mucho - He’s someone who seems to smile a lot
> 
> “No se preocupe de…” to “Vamos, le mostraré…”:  
> Julio: Don’t worry about money, miss. Nor about somewhere to sleep. You can rest here without worries tonight.  
> Azu: Oh thank you, thank you so much mister. You’re- You remind me of my late grandfather.  
> J: Oh, honey. You don’t have to treat me so formally. You can call me Julio. C’mon, I’ll show you your room. 
> 
> ¡La fería ha empezado! - The festival has begun!
> 
> “Buenos días Julio” to “Estaré trabajando…”:  
> Azu: Good morning Julio  
> Julio: Good morning Miss Azuleja. I think your manager or something was calling. They didn’t leave their name, but it sounded urgent.  
> A: Yes, yes thank you friend. It probably is my manager, I should return the call. Thank you for telling me.  
> J: Oh, sorry if I woke you up. I’ll be working a bit more, you can return the phone whenever. See you later!
> 
> Joder. - Fuck!
> 
> Perfecto. Es inevitable que dos psicópatas me persiguen ahora. - Perfect. It’s inevitable that two psychopaths are pursuing me now. 
> 
> Desconocido - unknown
> 
> Puedo llamar esta persona… I can call this person after I grab everything I need from the festival. Then I will call and they won’t be able to track my location because I’ll be leaving on a bus soon after. 
> 
> Oh. Soy boba. - Oh. I’m an idiot. 
> 
> Por lo menos puedo fingir… - At the least I can pretend that they’ve called the wrong number. 
> 
> “¿Bueno?” to “Nos vemos pronto, pajarita.”:  
> Azu: Hello?  
> Villanelle: Miss Azuleja  
> A: I think you have the wrong number, excuse me  
> V: We’ll see each other soon, little bird
> 
> “Señorita… Ojalá que…” to “Yo sé…”:  
> Creepy Man: Miss. I hope you aren’t going to leave without paying  
> Azu: It’s so dark inside here  
> Creepy Man: I know. Almost sinister, hmm?
> 
> ¿Te diste cuenta de…? To Oh. Si es cierto…:  
> Wolf: Did you realize that he had the same smell as the demon  
> Human: The demon??  
> W: Her, the person called Villanelle, the Russian  
> H: Oh. If that's true, I don’t see any connection between them. Well, with the exception that they’re both predators. But all of our pack are predators too and they don’t have that smell. 
> 
> Una hora y media de paz… - An hour and a half of peace and rest and I’ll be in Arriondas for another trip and rest for 3 hours… Pure bliss…


	6. "Anoche te soñé de nuevo (Y quiero que se repita otra vez, pero en persona)"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train shenanigans ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter out during the global pandemic! 
> 
> The title is from Ozuna's song Te Soñé de Nuevo and it translates to "Last night I dreamt of you again (and I want it to repeat, but in person)
> 
> Also all the translations are at the end, yay!

Azu jolts awake as the bus rolls to a stop at the end of the line: Arriondas. She stumbles to her feet from her seat, groaning as her muscles and joints protest at her movements. Slinging her bulky pillowcase over her shoulder, Azu shuffles to the front of the bus, returning the judgemental glances of other passengers with bared teeth and narrowed eyes. Azu nods a thank you to the bus driver, handing him a few spare bills for his troubles. He grins back at her with his jack-o-lantern mouth, filled not with teeth but lots of holes. 

Azu’s first destination is the small bathroom at the bus station. Upon arrival, however, she finds that the line stretches out through the door and snakes through the station haphazardly. It would obviously be a long wait, a wait which would use up time she doesn’t have. 

_¡A la mierda con esta!_ Azu huffs, spinning around and pushing into the men’s room. She slips into a stall, slumping onto the toilet with her head in her hands. Azu holds in a groan as her abdomen flares with pain, drawing her knees to her chest as she struggles to keep tears from spilling over. 

When she’s feeling well enough to move, Azu shakes a couple of pain pills out of their bottle, swallowing them dry. Mustering up the will, she also grabs the bottle of antiseptic, new bandages, and gauze. Azu unwraps the old bandage and gauze pad, wrapping them with toilet paper and throwing it into the toilet beneath her. Sucking in a ragged breath and hunching over herself as if she can ward off the coming pain, she uncaps the antiseptic and pours it over her wound. 

Hot, heavy pain floods her like fiery ants scrabbling across her stomach and into her limbs. They reach her head, sending waves of black and red crashing across her vision and making her head swim with nausea. Azu brings her trembling hands up to press the gauze delicately against the gash and wrap new strips of bandaging around it. Once done, she stays in place waiting for her lightheadedness to fade. Fragments of her dreams from her nap on the bus drift back to her, teasing the edges of her memory.

_A fierce bright light illuminating her from behind, creating a flaming outline of her figure…_

Azu shakes the memory away, literally, causing her head to pound again and her vision to pitch and heave violently. She sits there until she recovers and the painkillers kick in. She finishes up her business in the bathroom, nodding awkwardly at the few men who meet her gaze on the way out the door. 

Azu leaves the small bus station, emerging into the bustling town of Arriondas. 

_Conocido por pesca y los ríos. Desafortunadamente no es conocido por el río Cares,_ Azu thinks to herself, smiling a bit. The sun is out, and Azu guesses it’s in the high 60’s.

 _El clima perfecto para nadar, pero no tengo ni un ápice de tiempo._ Azu settles for soaking in the sun on her walk to the train station. She tilts her head upwards, soaking in the brilliant rays. Brilliant rays… 

_Dark and light, half her face is warped and thickly shadowed, half dappled with... kneeling on the floor in front of her, the sucking void at her back… Dazzling light glints off its metallic surface, arcing…_

Azu jumps as someone bumps into her shoulder, shaking her out of her reverie. Azu mumbles a sorry, rubbing her shoulder impulsively. She continues down the street, the splinter of the dream stuck at the edges of her consciousness like a leech, sucking her attention away. Azu continues towards the train station, trying not to grow envious of the beachgoers in cute swimsuits and flip-flops. 

_Cuando todo esto se ha terminado, vamos a ir a la playa._

_No puedo esperar,_ her wolf replies, and the human side can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not. A smile spreads across her face as she imagines sprinting across the beach in wolf form, spraying up water and sand as terrified sunbathers look on. 

_La agua fresca sentiría increíble…_

_Dark, bloody stains mar her clothes, sticky and slippery… hands float in front of her face… bloody, she’s bloody, fully drenched in the viscous fluid… her feet, pooled in shadow and blood, a thick stain slowly seeping outwards…_

_“Oye, ¿estás bien colega?”_ a pretty brunette asks, kneeling next to Azu, who is crumpled on the sidewalk. Other pedestrians stream around them, and Azu catches more judgemental glares similar to the ones she received on the bus. 

_Ah, parezco como una vagabunda. Ahora yo entiendo._ Azu looks up to the woman crouching next to her, concern written all over her features. The werewolf shifts into a more comfortable position, sitting upright next to the woman. She tries for a smile to ease the woman’s concern, but her frown only deepens. 

_“Estoy bien, muchísimas gracias señorita,”_ Azu insists, pushing up to her feet. The woman moves with her, eyeing her pillowcase and her worn-for-multiple-days-in-a-row clothes. 

“ _¿Adonde vas? Si nos dirigimos al mismo lugar, puedo andar contigo,”_ she suggests, taking Azu’s elbow gently and moving them to the side so they aren’t in the way of the stream of people. 

_Y probablemente porque no quiere que yo esté en la media de la acera si tengo otro “episodio” o algo… Quizás no sea mala idea andar con ella._

“ _Voy hacia la estación de trenes. ¿Y tu?”_ Azu asks, pointing helpfully in the direction of the station. She shifts the pillowcase awkwardly against her back as the woman looks at it again.

“ _De hecho, yo voy en la misma dirección. Venga, a caminar tía.”_ she steps back into the flow, tugging Azu along. 

They walk together through the sunny streets of Arriondas, making small talk. The woman, named Lupe as Azu learns, is content to talk about herself or any trivial topic Azu can think of. With the constant chatter, Azu is able to keep the weird dream flashbacks at bay, occupying her mind with absorbing all she can about Lupe. By the time they arrive at the train station, she’s convinced she knows more about Lupe than her own mother. Azu lets Lupe escort her to the ticket booth, lets her watch as she easily pays for the ticket, and lets her hug her goodbye after repeating several times that she’ll be fine. Azu shakes her head at the woman as she walks away, then turns and heads towards one of the small shops around the train station. 

She finds a small tourist-y shop and buys a large, cheap, brightly-colored backpack. Azu nods and smiles at the cashier as she checks out, pretending once again to be a tourist. 

_Me he cansado de hablar de las cosas sin importancia. Solo he estado hablando con gente que no me conocen. Solo quieren hacerme preguntas y más preguntas y no tengo nadie que ya me conoce de verdad. Es muy agotador._ Azu sighs, heading towards the train once again.

 _Pienso que están hablando sus heridos,_ her wolf chimes in, awaking from her usual peaceful slumber, _yo sé que a ti te encanta conocer a nuevas personas. Y si son verdaderas las locuras que estás diciendo, todavía me tienes para hablar._

Azu sighs again as she climbs into the train and slouches into a seat towards the back of the car. She leans into the window, her body slowly settling into the familiar position. 

_Tienes razón loba, gracias. Creo que es mis heridos y también estos, como, fragmentos de un sueño que me aterrorizan._

_Por supuesto humana,_ her wolf chuckles throatily, _y ahora podemos dormir otra vez y curarnos. ¡Dulces sueños!_

Azu rolls her eyes at her wolf’s… odd manner and readjusts herself against the window. The train starts to move, gilding along the track. Before going back to sleep, Azu transfers all of her “acquired” supplies into her new backpack. As she takes the pill bottles and medical supplies out of the pillowcase, she pauses. 

_Debo tomar la medicina otra vez ahora y entonces podré dormir._

The werewolf gets to her feet, holding the first aid supplies in one hand while stuffing the remaining contents of the pillowcase into the backpack. She slings the backpack over her free shoulder, staggering towards the bathroom and gritting her teeth as the strain on her back lights her wound on fire. She pushes her way into the small bathroom, the tangy scent of cleaning chemicals burning her nose. She pulls the door closed, locking it before shuffling to the sink and turning it on full blast. Popping a handful of pills into her mouth, she cups one hand under the stream and brings it to her mouth to wash the medicine down. 

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_ comes thundering from the door, and Azu jerks forward, slamming her head into the underside of the mirror above the sink. 

“ _¿Qué carajo quieres? ¡Alguien está adentro!”_ she yells back, rubbing her stinging forehead with her still-wet hand. Grumbling to herself, Azu moves around the bathroom drying herself off and cleaning up the pills that had scattered across the floor when she had jumped at the noise. She’s shoving things back into her bag, preparing to leave, when the knocking comes again, incessant and infuriating. Azu growls towards the door before continuing to pack up. Once done, she lets her eyelids flutter closed, taking a deep breath to calm herself and revelling in the few moments of solitude she has left. 

_Solo quiero unos putos momentos de silencio. ¿Es demasiado pedir?_

Azu opens her eyes. She snatches the wadded up pillowcase from her unzipped bag, using it to wipe her face fully dry. Satisfied with her appearance and her wound being taken care of, Azu moves to open the door, a withering glare already taking hold of her features to confront the impatient passenger with. 

_“Bueno, pasa ahora,”_ she grumbles, undoing the lock and swinging the door open roughly, hoping to catch the person outside by surprise. 

_¿Qué puedo decir? Las puñaladas me ponen cascarrabias._

A shock runs up her arm and through her body as the door hits a hard object, stopping suddenly in its tracks. Azu breaks out of her irritated thoughts to look up. A hand is wrapped firmly around the door, holding it in place. Azu notices with detached interest that the person is wearing a chic silver-colored ring engraved with a wolf symbol, and her opinion of them rises a bit. Then the hand is pulling, wrenching the door back into motion and out of the way of Azu’s vision. The person’s face comes into view- _Her_ face comes into view, a woman. And… not a stranger either.

“Vill-,” Azu gets out before a firm push in the chest sends her careening back into the bathroom. She stumbles backwards, tripping over the toilet and crashing into the back wall. Before she can get to her feet, Villanelle has locked the door and planted herself firmly in front of it. Azu opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn’t even know what to say. 

_“Shhhhhh,_ ” Villanelle cautions, and deftly whips out a butterfly knife from some unknown pocket, raising it to her lips in place of a finger to complete the gesture. Azu finally finds her voice, and she knows just what to say to tick Villanelle off.

“¿ _Un cuchillo? Un cuchillo, dentro de un baño en un tren. Venga, tía. ¿Qué coño estás haciendo?”_ Azu tries for a nonchalant tone, but even if she achieves it Villanelle doesn’t seem affected. Her face seems to tighten only for a second before she raises an eyebrow in amusement, cocking her head to the side. 

Azu sees her chance to act as Villanelle starts to respond. The werewolf grabs one of the straps of her backpack and swings it hard at Villanelle. Right before the bag hits her, Azu lets it fly and lunges towards the light switch by the door, flicking the switch and sending them into darkness. 

_Esto, con suerte, nos hará competir en igualdad de condiciones._

Before Villanelle can turn the lights back on, Azu is diving forward, slamming them into the door. She keeps herself pressed close to Villanelle so she doesn’t have enough space to stab her. Keeping her weight pressed against the assassin to pin her to the door, Azu fumbles desperately for the lock. Villanelle uses her leverage from the door to push Azu away from her hard, and then the glint of the knife flashes through the dark. Azu ducks with plenty of time, but before she can right herself she’s being pummeled in the stomach.

 _¿Cómo puede ver ella tan bien?_ Azu wonders, shocked, before one of the hits lands close to her still-tender wound and sends her down to the floor, waves of pain assaulting her. A moment later the Russian is landing on top of her, wrapping one hand around Azu’s throat while the other holds the knife. She leans down close, her breath ghosting over Azu’s face and her smell pervading her consciousness. 

“The knife is silver, and if you must know, I have a thing for-”

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Villanelle freezes. Azu can hear her heart start to pump faster.

 _Como un conejo_ , her wolf comments. Azu can’t help it. She bursts out laughing, but the sound is quickly cut off as Villanelle’s hand constricts around her throat. She can see the assassin glaring at her in the half-light, but when she speaks her voice is sweet.

“ _Por favor danos solo unos minutos_ ,” she calls, her Spanish accent perfect as always. 

“¿ _Nos?”_ Azu croaks, wrapping both her hands around the one holding her throat and unsuccessfully trying to wrench it off her. Villanelle shoots her a look before releasing her and climbing to her feet. She flips the lights back on and Azu grumbles at the sudden change - it’s easier to go from light to dark. While Azu gets back on her feet, Villanelle picks up the backpack she had thrown at her, heaving it at the werewolf, who barely manages to hang onto it.

 _“¿Sombra de ojos dorada?”_ Azu questions aloud, putting on the backpack and shifting it against her back, the pills rattling audibly from within. Villanelle takes the odd question with ease.

“ _Lo llaman ‘estilo,’ sí,”_ she retorts, “ _pero venga, hay un hombre que espera.”_ She holds out her arm as if curling it around the shoulders of an imaginary person. With her other hand she beckons Azu towards her.

_Oh._

Azu ducks under the waiting arm, feeling it settle a bit _too_ comfortably around her shoulders. As Villanelle flips the lock on the door, Azu can feel the point of the knife dig into her ribs, mirroring the spot of her existing wound. She tries to pull away on instinct, but Villanelle’s arm across her shoulders keeps her in place. 

_“Con calma, cariño,”_ Villanelle murmurs, and Azu jerks her head away from the assassin’s in response. Villanelle pushes the door open, nodding to the middle-aged man who stands aghast, clutching a newspaper in his hands like it's a crucifix and they’re vampires. His eyes flit back and forth between them before he shoulders past the pair into the bathroom. 

_“_ Where’s your seat?” Villanelle questions, switching back to English riddled with a Russian accent. Azu frowns at her before reluctantly nodding her head towards where she’d been sitting. 

_No tengo grandes esperanzas de dormir ahora,_ she sighs to herself as Villanelle leads them down the aisle.

 _No_ debes _dormir con una sicaria a tu lado,_ her wolf chastises her, less jokingly than usual. Villanelle pushes Azu into the seat, where she positions herself away from the killer, curled up to the window. She feels the cushion depress as Villanelle sits next to her and watches her cross her legs out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Ari,” she says after a bit. Azu flinches at the name but doesn’t move; she knows Villanelle can’t kill her now that they’re out in the open so she might as well take some time to think.

“Ari,” Villanelle sings now, drawing out the _i_ sound. Azu stares fixedly out the window, tensing as she feels her lean closer. 

“ _Mirame, Ariadna_ ,” she commands, her voice dropping an octave lower. 

_“No me llames ese nombre,”_ Azu growls back, determined not to look at the assassin. She feels Villanelle lean back a bit, away from her, probably relaxing back into the seat. Hopefully acquiescing, at least for the time being. 

“ _¡Ay!”_ Azu jumps, pushing herself closer to the window and holding her stinging side protectively. Villanelle sits facing her, sporting a teasing smile that doesn’t dampen the intensity of her gaze. Her elbow rests on the back of the seat, the knife dangling from her fingertips, gently swaying. Azu narrows her eyes at her, trying to relax into a more comfortable position so she doesn’t look so scared or defensive. 

_Nos dio con el cuchillo muy cerca al herido,_ her wolf snarls, and Azu can feel the creature’s conviction to protect them. 

_Quieta, loba,_ Azu shushes her, trying to think of a plan that would ensure she wouldn’t end up being stabbed again, especially now that the knife is silver. She watches Villanelle swing the blade back and forth like a pendulum, held delicately from her fingers, before finally meeting her eyes. Again Azu is struck by the glittering brilliance of the Russian’s eyeshadow, the gold seeming to come straight from the blood of the gods. 

_Como icor,_ she realizes suddenly, as though the thought isn’t her own but has been whispered into existence inside her head. All the same, Azu feels it is something of an epiphany. But with the supposed “epiphany” comes only more questions. Mystified by this seemingly important connection to _something_ , Azu’s hand reaches out towards Villanelle’s face. 

In the blink of an eye Villanelle switches her grip on the knife, holding it tightly in her fist. Azu’s hand stops short, the tip of the silver blade just grazing her palm. Her strange trance broken, Azu flicks her gaze to Villanelle’s. The assassin holds her gaze steadily for a beat before her eyebrows raise and she glares incredulously at Azu, who still hasn’t moved. 

“What,” she demands, “do you think you are doing?” Azu gulps, softly taking her hand away from the knife’s point and resting it in her lap. Villanelle scoffs, flipping the knife through a series of intricate patterns to close it before stowing it back in some hidden pocket.

“I don’t even need the knife to kill you, you know,” she adds after a minute. Azu muses that her lack of response must be putting the assassin on edge a bit, which won’t help anyone.

“ _Yo sé,”_ Azu concedes, but finds her gaze landing again on the glittering gold streaks. They swirl, mesmerizing, the glitter like stars in a galaxy. As she watches, the makeup starts to melt, liquify, drip down into Villanelle’s eyes and splash onto her cheeks. Azu squints, not believing her eyes, especially with all the weird occurences in the day so far.

_...liquid gold… burning ichor…Free… drip golden tears down her cherubic cheeks…_

“Good afternoon _, señoritas._ I need to see your tickets, _por favor_ , _”_ Azu starts at the noise, shaken out of the beginnings of another weird flashback-esque dream. The conductor, a rangy man with a gaunt face, stands before them. She rummages through her backpack with shaking hands and fishes out her ticket, handing it to the conductor. Villanelle wordlessly follows suit, handing the conductor her ticket with a smile. The conductor ambles away and Villanelle twists in her seat to watch him go. 

_¿Otra vez con esta mierda? ¿Qué me pasa hoy?_ Azu thinks as she waits for Villanelle to turn back around. 

Satisfied that he’s far enough away, she shifts back to look at Azu with slitted eyes and a conspiratorial smile. 

“What kind of drugs are you on, Ari?” Villanelle teases, but Azu can see in her steely hazel eyes that her brain is working overdrive to get back on top of the situation. Azu frowns at the continued use of the nickname, but shakes her head at Villanelle in exasperation.

“No drugs, I- I did not sleep good last night,” Azu fumbles, not wanting to sound insane, “but I am okay, I am okay.” 

“Great, here,” Villanelle fires back, shoving a phone into her hands.

“ _¿Qué-?”_ Azu starts. She sees that the phone is dialing a number, but doesn’t have time to make it out before the person on the other line picks up. She looks to Villanelle wildly for any explanation of what’s happening. 

_Esto es como va a superar la situación_ , she realizes, _a través del caos y confusión._

Villanelle smiles back at her, nodding towards the phone expectantly. Azu looks down at the phone and then back at the assassin, scowling.

_¿Y qué pasa si está Damián al otro lado?_

Azu steels herself, taking the phone and bringing it up to her ear warily.

“Hello?” she calls out softly, holding eye contact with Villanelle as she speaks, trying to glean any information she can from those bright hazel eyes. 

“Azu?” a woman questions, surprise evident in her voice. Azu feels her heart begin to thrum furiously, pounding louder and louder, drowning out all thoughts in a desperate bid to communicate the subconscious warning before Azu herself realizes what’s going on. She jerks the phone away from her ear, turning it over in her hands as though it’s an alien object. But… it’s not. She’s seen this exact phone before… she’d seen it earlier today.

“ _No_ ,” Azu breathes, her vision blurring as tears rise to her eyes, “ _no lo hiciste, ¡joder, dime que no lo hiciste!”_ Villanelle raises her eyebrows as though surprised at her outburst, before her face converts into a perfect mask of sympathy. She leans in to Azu, as if for a hug, grabbing her before she can recoil. Villanelle’s lips ghost over the werewolf’s jugular before finding her ear.

“I can still hear his screams,” she sneers, before pulling back just far enough to plant a soft kiss on Azu’s forehead, smiling gently at her as if she hadn’t just admitted proudly to murdering an old man in cold blood. She draws away fully after a moment, watching the frozen werewolf with calculating eyes, any veneer of sympathy washed away as she arrogantly sucks up Azu’s reaction.

“I think you should talk to those agents while you can, _cariño,_ ” Villanelle croons after a span of time, “although maybe don’t tell them that your little escape plan was the cause of a murder, hmm?” Azu slowly drags her gaze up from her hands to Villanelle’s face. Her lagging brain works to comprehend her words slowly, and Azu finally picks up the phone with shaking hands, cradling it gently in her palms. She brings it up to her ear once again, just as her brain finally understands what Villanelle had said. 

“I did _not_ kill Julio, it is not my fault!” she fumes aloud, most of her attention spent on trying to push down the pain and anger at Julio’s death and deal with her wolf half, which was trying to rise up to help. 

“Azuleja? Wha- What’s going on? Are you safe?” comes the woman’s voice, Eve’s voice, from the speaker. Azu’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’d said. She wonders why Villanelle would kill Julio to get his phone, which would have MI6’s number on it, only to have Azu call them. As she ponders how to respond to get more information, Azu also realizes something else.

“Eve, you call me this morning, _¿no?_ ” Azu asks, disregarding the other woman’s questions as her mind moves in a different direction. She’ll finally get her confirmation on whether or not the caller was Damián… and also bide some time to figure out what the hell Villanelle’s playing at. 

“Uh, yes, to confirm-,” she starts, obviously confused, but Azu cuts her off before she can continue, just in case Villanelle hears and by some chance doesn’t know of her plan to meet with the MI6 agents yet. 

“Yes, thank you, sorry I did not answer. Uh-,” she looks over at Villanelle before continuing, “you need anything more Eve?” Confirmed plans or not, Azu doesn’t want to lose the one possible advantage she has so far.

“You’re the one that called _me_ , Azu-” she speculates, suspicion creeping into her voice. But before Azu can even think of what to say, let alone respond, Villanelle grabs the phone from her, cupping her hand around the bottom of it to block the microphone.

“You’re not very good at this, are you,” the Russian lilts, eyes bright with mischievous machinations. Azu purses her lips, a snappy remark on the tip of her tongue, but the assassin keeps talking.

“Tell her that you can’t meet her at the airport in Oviedo,” Villanelle commands, then pauses as she seems to think of something else, “if you don’t, I will kill your family, your little clients, and probably you too,” she finishes with a grin, baring her teeth at the werewolf. Azu just blinks, too emotionally numb to react to the threats, and gestures for Villanelle to hand the phone back to her.

“Eve? The _em… cobrador_ , come over but I am here now again. I- I can not meet you in Oviedo…” she trails off, trying in vain to think of a plausible excuse. 

“Wha- Why can’t you meet me? Did she contact you again? Is- Is Villanelle there Azuleja? I need you to tell me, Azu, this could be the break-,”

“ _Mi abuelo_ has died, Ms. Polastri,” Azu answers coldly, staring straight at the assassin as she says it, “this is not all about you or this _sicaria_ Villanelle. I- I still have a life, Eve,” her voice cracks as she finishes, as much in mourning for Julio as for losing this opportunity she had worked so hard to get. 

“Eve, I-,” Azu sighs, running a hand through her hair, “I will call you later, _vale?_ To re-, _em,_ re-...” 

“Reschedule,” Villanelle chimes in, watching Azu with amusement. 

“...reschedule. I am safe, do not worry of me.” 

Azu listens to Eve respond and hangs up promptly after, tossing the phone back to Villanelle with a huff. When all the assassin does is nod at her in mock teacherly-approval with that small, infuriating smile, Azu throws her hands up in annoyance.

“ _Y ahora, ¿qué? ¿Qué es la próxima etapa en tu plan maestro, eh?”_ she seethes, feeling her eyes begin to blaze bright blue with her wolf for, surprisingly, the first time today. Villanelle’s grin grows to a full smile, fuelled by the werewolf’s rage because it indicates she’s back in control. 

“I’m going to take you out to dinner, _mi amor_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> ¡A la mierda con esta! - To hell with this!
> 
> Conocido por pesca… - Known for fishing and the rivers. Unfortunately it’s not known for the Cares river.
> 
> El clima perfecto… - The perfect weather for swimming, but I don’t have even an iota of time.
> 
> Cuando todo esto… - When all of this is over, we’re going to the beach.
> 
> No puedo esperar - I can’t wait
> 
> La agua fresca sentiría increíble - The cold water would feel amazing
> 
> “Oye, ¿estás bien colega?” - “Hey, are you alright friend?”
> 
> Ah, parezco como… - Oh, I look like a homeless person. Now I get it. 
> 
> “Estoy bien…” - “I’m fine, thank you so much, miss.”
> 
> “¿Adonde vas…” - “Where are you going? If we’re headed towards the same place, I can walk with you.”
> 
> Y probablemente porque… - And probably because she doesn’t want me to be in the middle of the sidewalk if I have another “episode” or something. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to walk with her. 
> 
> “Voy hacia…” - “I’m going towards the train station. What about you?”
> 
> “De hecho, yo…” - “In fact I’m going in the same direction. C’mon, let’s walk girl.” 
> 
> Me he cansado… to ¡Dulces sueños! :  
> Human: I’ve grown tired of talking about things without meaning. I’ve only been talking to people who don’t know me. They only want to ask me questions and more questions and I don’t have anyone who truly knows me. It’s very exhausting.  
> Wolf: I think that your wounds are talking. I know that you love to meet new people. And even if these crazy things you’re saying are true, you still have me to talk to.  
> H: You’re right, wolf, thank you. I think it’s my wounds and also those, like, fragments of a dream that terrorize me.  
> W: Of course, human, and now we can sleep again and heal up. Sweet dreams!
> 
> Debo tomar la… - I should take the medicine again and then I will be able to sleep.
> 
> “¿Qué carajo quieres? ¡Alguien está adentro!” - “What the hell do you want? Someone’s inside!”
> 
> Solo quiero unos… - I only want a few fucking moments of silence. Is that too much to ask?
> 
> “Bueno, pasa ahora,” - “Okay, come in now”
> 
> ¿Qué puedo… - What can I say? Stab wounds make me cranky.
> 
> “¿Un cuchillo…” - “A knife? A knife, inside of a bathroom on a train. C’mon man. What the hell are you doing?”
> 
> Esto, con suerte… - This, with luck, will make us compete on equal footing. 
> 
> ¿Cómo puede… - How can she see so well? 
> 
> Como un conejo - Like a rabbit
> 
> “Por favor...” - “Please just give us a few minutes”
> 
> “¿Nos?” - “Us?”
> 
> “¿Sombra de…” - “Gold eye shadow?” 
> 
> “Lo llaman estilo…” - “Yeah, it’s called ‘style,’ but let’s go, there’s a man waiting.” 
> 
> “Con calma, cariño,” - “Calmy, dear”
> 
> No tengo grandes… - I don’t have large hopes of sleeping now.
> 
> No debes dormir… You shouldn’t sleep with an assassin at your side.
> 
> “Mirame, Ariadna,” - “Look at me, Ariadna”
> 
> “No me llames ese nombre,” - Don’t call me that name
> 
> Nos dio con… - she jabbed us with that knife very close to the wound
> 
> Quieta, loba - stay still, wolf
> 
> Como icor - Like ichor
> 
> “Yo sé,” - “I know”
> 
> ¿Otra vez con… - Again with this shit? What is wrong with me today?
> 
> Esto es como va… - This is how she’s going to get back on top of the situation, through chaos and confusion.
> 
> ¿Y qué pasa… - And what if it’s Damián on the other side?
> 
> “no lo hiciste…” you didn’t do it, fuck tell me you didn’t do it!
> 
> “Cobrador” - conductor
> 
> “Y ahora…” - And now what? What is the next step of your master plan, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Translations used a lot:  
> Azuleja / Azu - Bluejay / Jay  
> La manada: the pack


End file.
